Restless Spirits
by FaolanLupa
Summary: (Post-TP) After spending 7 months in Ordon, Link hadn't planned on going anywhere until spring. Fate had other ideas. A simple favour for Rusl left him stuck in wolf form. While he worked to fix it, the people he once called his friends wouldn't hesitate to kill him. *Finale* is up. Epilogue 2 is posted.
1. Ch 1 Setting the Scene

A/N This is a fanfic I wrote about 4 years ago now. I posted this once maybe 2 years ago, now that my account is back up I might as well start with my oldest fanfiction. I loved it when I wrote it, then I lost heart in it and deleted it off my page. Since I'm back in business I might as well dig up all my old documents and work on those. I have new ideas for old fandoms too, so if you're into that stuff I'll announce the estimated times for them. Any writing that seems juvenile is something I probably forgot to edit so go ahead and point any weird, stupid, or crazy mistakes so that I can correct them. It's hard to edit it without changing everything so it'll be awhile before everything fits smoothly. I decided to put the Prologue and Chapter 1 together so that it'll be longer. It gets more exciting I promise.

Prologue

One tear. One Twili tear had destroyed the precious Twilight Mirror. Longing filled his heart frequently, he wanted Midna there to use the black Twilight Crystal, to become the blue-eyed beast. To be able to run without a care in the world, to be with Midna, his friend and faithful companion.

Princess Zelda could only try to understand the full extent of Link's experiences. He was weary in both mind and soul, he politely refused many rewards for saving Hyrule. He was restless, yes, but a position as a knight was not something that would appease his spirit. What was left for him to do? The only thing left for him after everything was to go back to Ordon. There were still small slews of beasts about, he might as well protect his people there until a greater opportunity presented itself. Besides, he had promises to a certain blonde haired boy he had to keep.

So, after months and months of adventuring, a worn hero had made his way back home. That was seven months ago. Seven months since he had slowly walked back into the village, following the path he knew by heart. With ever loyal Epona close behind him, Link had greeted familiar faces with tired, but genuine smiles. He had gone home, had been given a hero's welcome, and been praised endlessly, yet none of it gave him any peace. He was mildly content of course, but beneath it a beast still paced with its insatiable hunger for freedom. His spirit felt caged, but his heart told him to rest and stay to protect those he cared for. Now was not the time to run around somewhere far off when repairs needed to be made. Not just tangible repairing, but emotionally as well.

The hero chose to rest then. He would rest and help in Ordon. He hadn't rested in so long, it was time he did. It was time he stopped for a change, to repair the time lost with those that he cared so much about. So he stayed there, for seven months until he no longer could. If only it was of his own volition to leave.

Chapter 1

Seven months had passed since Link's adventure had ended, since he had last seen the Twilight Princess, and since he had made the decision to stay in Ordon. Cold morning air seeped in through his window, it was very close to winter and the mornings were icy and uncomfortable. He was already dressed and awake.

Warmer clothes were a necessity at this time of year, hence why he was wearing plain long sleeves and pants. Nothing special or fancy appealed to him clothing wise, a green shirt and brown pants was fancy enough. Rather than leaving his warm home right away he chose to sit on his bed for a couple minutes. His clasped hands supported his chin while he rested his elbows on his legs.

Link sat like that for only a couple minutes before the brown pouch by his bed caught his eye. With a small sigh he reached down and gingerly picked it up. Turning the heavy bag over in his hands he allowed his memories to swallow him. It had been so long since he had used any of the items in it besides his bow and quiver. A wave of nostalgia washed over him just by holding the pouch. It had been so long… Was it time for him to leave Ordon? The stuffy feeling of staying in one place had been gradually filling his senses over the months. The constancy of everyday was getting to him. Maybe it was time to go, maybe he could leave that week, maybe... No, Ordon needed Link. Winter was approaching quickly and they needed his help. They did need him. He could leave in the spring, when he made sure they were all set. He could last another couple months.

Pulling himself together he heard the familiar shout of Fado. Link sighed, it seemed to be the same day ever since he got back, the only change being the seasons. Setting his pouch down, he headed to the door. Hopping down from the ledge he greeted Fado with a small knowing grin. The herdsman may have gotten better at his job, but he did enjoy his quality time with Link.

"Which is it today, Fado? Fences or herding?" Link inquired with a smile.

Softly chuckling, Fado shook his head. "I only came to tell you that Rusl wants to talk to ya, bud. It's not urgent, but he did mention it was important." He said, "I wouldn't dawdle much if I were you." He added with a pat on Link's shoulder before walking back towards the village.

Usually Rusl came to talk to Link in person, but lately the man wasn't feeling well. The illness didn't appear very serious, the only thing keeping the sick man from seeing him in person was probably his well-meaning, but overbearing wife. With that thought Link snorted in amusement, that was probably the case. Before he headed to the village it was probably best he got something to eat, just in case Uli found out he hadn't. That would end in a short lecture and him being fed far too much food than she should spare for him, especially now that there would be very little food until spring came.

After Link had found something he could eat, and had fed Epona (Goddesses forbid he forget to do that, Ilia would be so mad), he headed down to Rusl and Uli's house. Upon entering it, he was overwhelmed by the wonderful warmth of the fire and also by the small boy he considered a brother.

"Hi Link! It's been awhile since you've been here, we were wondering how long it would take for you to get here." Colin said enthusiastically. He had changed a lot from that shy boy he used to be, Link was most definitely proud of him. The boy received a large grin and affectionately ruffled hair as a greeting from his 'older brother'. He flashed a quick grin toward Uli who was rocking her sleeping baby near the fire who returned the smile in a motherly manner.

From where he as sitting up, Rusl chuckled at both of them. He greeted Link with a simple nod, "I need to ask a favour of you, not a super big one really." He started, "Bo says he spotted several bokoblins off the forest path by the spring. They're being elusive so he set up some bear traps, we were wondering if you could check them tonight."

Link nodded after a second. Bokoblins that close to the village meant that they were bold or stupid, either way they couldn't let them get closer. It made sense to put up traps, it was a lot easier than trying to track down something that didn't want to be found for whatever reason. Usually he was in the loop about this kind of stuff, but he had been busy helping everyone else, he understood if they didn't want to involve him.

"Lately they don't appear to be active during the day so you can wait until later in the day, just be careful Link. Uli won't be letting me get up anytime soon, even if you need help." he added, with a laugh as said wife gave him a pointed, but amused glare.

"It's better to be over-rested than to get worse chasing some beasts around the woods." She said in a firm, loving voice.

Obviously having discussed this matter before Rusl slumped down, contempt written on his face. There was no going against Uli when she had her mind set on something.

"She's won this argument many times, I can see." Shaking his head in bemusement Link chuckled. "I'll be careful Rusl." Turning to Colin he added, "Don't forget to come to my house later, Epona needs some exercise so you might as well practice riding her today."

Colin nodded excitedly, "I won't forget, I'll be there this afternoon!"

Heading towards the door Link waved goodbye to everyone in the house before exiting. They did need him to stay, that's for sure. Even if the rest of the village didn't, everyone in that little house did.


	2. Ch 2 Dramatic Irony

Chapter 2

The chilly hours of Link's afternoon were preoccupied with Colin's riding lessons. The boy was braver than he used to be, yet he still had his moments. It never is an easy task, getting used to riding a horse, let alone a draft horse like Epona. These hours, despite their challenges, were enjoyable. It gave both Link and Colin a sweet sense of companionship and brotherhood. It was a breath of fresh air in the hero's disquietude and the boy's uneasy steps into a braver life. Such moments with those that made his time in Ordon worth it.

As their session was finishing up a tired silence passed between them. Soon enough Colin was heading home, few words passed between them that afternoon. So many words exist in this world, thousands of phrases to be spoken, but sometimes the best sentence in the world is a silence left unbroken.

With a lighter heart and mind Link gently relieved Epona of the riding gear. Leaving her with a hearty helping of feed he climbed went inside his house. Pausing for a second he figured it was a good idea to gather what he was going to use that night. The pause lengthened as he considered taking his pouch, even if it wasn't necessary. This task could easily prove to be more of an output for all of his pent up instincts. He hadn't even really opened his pouch much since his adventures. Practicing with them against some easier adversaries could do him some good.

With a nod to himself he grabbed the battered bag from his quest, at least for old time's sake he would bring it. Donning some warmer clothes his eyes scanned the room for a bottle. Adding half a bottle of red potion he strapped it on with his Ordon sword (he had returned the Master Sword) along with a cheap wooden shield. The door creaked softly as he left his warm home. Jumping down his feet hit the ground with a thud. Before he left, he decided to inform Rusl of his departure. It was a good idea to grab some extra traps from him anyway.

Rusl was finishing his pumpkin soup with Uli when Colin came home. The sharp clack of the door shutting brought him back to the present, his thoughts had been stuck on Link. He was worried about him, he seemed withdrawn at times, if not jumpy like Epona when no one had ridden her in a while. According to some stories Link shared, a mysterious companion had helped him and when they had grown close together, left him.

Link was definitely not the same since his journey, but it was obvious that he was trying hard to get back to his normal life, no matter how much it had changed. He couldn't help but long to relieve Link, the boy he had raised, of his internal struggles and appease his unease about staying put. The whole village cared for him especially, Rusl's family. Even the Resistance cared for him, they kept him in the loop even though there wasn't much of anything left. With the repairs on the castle finished and monsters being almost wiped out there was little to report.

Despite knowing that the boy was capable of a lot, Rusl had still been worried for him during his long disappearances. Sure Link was safe in the end, but he had still worried for the hero whenever he crossed the man's mind. He couldn't and wouldn't stand it if something happened to Link. As soon as Rusl was able to leave his own house he would talk to him. He missed those days that they would talk together. Even a simple talk could relieve someone of unseen burdens. Pushing his empty bowl away, he grinned. If just a simple talk helped his boy, it was worth his time.

Link walked along the path to Rusl's house, taking in his surroundings. It was nearing twilight, the beauty of sky not escaping his notice. His thoughts were stuck upon Midna right then. It wasn't a voluntary thought really, whenever twilight fell he thought of her and being a wolf. Maybe not every day, but it was frequent. They tormented his mind if he succumbed to the nostalgia and longing within. The swirling memories and thoughts of what was and what could've been felt almost normal at this point. He missed a friend and that was simple, he missed a time of freedom. He was not the first to feel emotions like this, he really did miss her, but that didn't change anything. He had learned to live like this, his own freedom would come in spring. A time to start anew in a sense. The thoughts didn't last long, his stupor passed shortly and Midna was all but forgotten as his priorities took place.

It took very little time at all to reach Rusl's home. He entered quietly, hoping to avoid causing the baby to wake up if she was asleep. Uli was sitting in the back with Colin and cradling her baby girl, the blonde boy was observing the gentleness with which his mother exuded with an intense studious gaze. He was likely trying to find out why his sister didn't like being held by him, poor boy hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Rusl greeted the brunette with a warm smile. "I figured you'd stop by to at least get some extra traps. They're by the door." He said, pointing to the sack by the door. "Just a couple extra in case those beasts broke some."

Returning the smile Link said his thanks and picked up the sack and turned to leave.

"Be safe out there, Link. It's going to be pretty dark tonight. I'll have Bo tell everyone to leave you alone in the morning. You're going to be worn out."

Nodding gratefully back at Rusl, Link waved goodbye to the others. "I'll be safe, see you tomorrow. I expect you to be ready to at my house by noon, Colin. We're going to take Epona as far Coro's house tomorrow."

Bright excitement lit up on the younger boy's face. "Thanks Link! I'll be there on time, I promise." He exclaimed. He waved goodbye as the hero left the hut. His parents smiling in a bemused fashion at the excitement in their son's voice. Their life was better than they could ask for at that point. When life is good and spirits are high what else could be granted to them.

[the higher grounds are the areas you can't access/climb on in the game, here it's near the Faron Wood's entrance before you see Coro's house I believe. That's basically where Link is going]

Link left, walking down past his house and heading towards the bridge. He checked his quiver to make sure it was and checked his few other items yet not delving super deep into the bag. Link walked over to the higher ground just off the path. He had used some large rocks to make it easier for him to get up the steep ledge. Pushing off the rocks Link pulled himself up. The sun was dipping very low in the sky, its orange belly sinking under the horizon.

Heading down a game trail he spotted the tracks of several bokoblins among the fallen leaves. After five traps he finally saw one with a victim. Or once did. There was only a shredded leg in clamp, obviously an unfortunate monster's. It was likely preyed upon by another monster of some sort. Seeing just the leg in the clamp did put him on alert however. It was dark now, the moon and stars mostly obscured by the grey clouds above. Even with his keen eyesight it was starting to get hard to see where he was going. Pulling out his lantern he groaned to himself, he had forgotten to fill it up all the way. With only half a lantern of oil he pushed on, determined to find monsters. All he found was a couple more raided traps.

Still wandering his ears picked up the pained, pitiful cries and whimpers of a young doe. It was half-dead already and the leg that was trapped in the clamp was shredded in its frenzy to escape when it was caught about what looked like an hour ago. Putting it out of its misery he dragged a bit closer to where he had come from. He might as well not waste it, he would bring it back to Ordon when he was done there.

The crunching of the fall leaves under his feet became background noise as wondered if there were more monsters here than he had anticipated. There were probably skeletal dogs nearby, the bites on the leg in the trap made it seem so. Link was now a long way from the main path, Bo had put them deep into the forest. This forest was less familiar than the Faron woods, but he knew them well enough not to get lost.

There were still no sign of any monsters besides the raided traps he had stumbled upon. The bokoblins appeared to have left this section of the forest which was definitely good news. Exhausted Link sat in the roots of a large tree near some of his traps, sipping the red potion for much needed energy. The trek was taking a lot more out of him than he had thought. Even though Link tried not to, he slowly slipped into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

Suddenly he sat up, not knowing what had woken him until he listened. The sound of leaves from the fall trees shifting and crunching around him, he was in a complete circle of the noise. He immediately got up, his instincts kicking in, he heard a growl near him, but before he could draw his sword an animal had leapt on him. The animal had pushed off of him knocking him to the ground and ripping off the strap that had held his sword to his back. His sword and sheath skidded over the dead leaves out of reach along with his pouch of weapons. His shield already rendered useless as the cheap wood snapped like the brittle bark it was. Before Link could get up he was attacked, vicious snarling filled the air rapidly. The noises surrounding him added to his disorientation. The beast jumped out of the way as soon as it finished ripping into his arm. It had happened so quickly that Link felt the hot rush of crimson blood before he felt the pain. He cried out, his reflexes just barely keeping him stable and balanced. Another similar beast rushed in, Link barely managed to roll out of the way in time as it bit empty air and crashed into the large tree, the attacker slumping to the ground.

Link's blood was pouring out onto the ground, gushing from the wound and pattering onto the leaves like rain. The night had become pitch black, it was nearly impossible for him to see. In his peripheral vision he could just barely make out two smaller, forms were ripping at the deer that he had left down the path. Oh Goddesses, he was surrounded.

Squinting his eyes, he backed himself against a large tree, he finally got a good look at the animals attacking him. Wolves. Not just wolfos, but actual wolves that looked like shadows rippling in the dark. Ivory fangs flashed as another one charged at him, rolling out of the way he clenched his teeth to stifle his cry of pain. His wounds had dug into the hard ground. The one wolf that had run into the tree was shakily getting to its feet out of his sight. One of the two wolves that had been tearing into the dear carcass joined the fray. Link desperately tried to locate his sword among the dark leaves scattered on the ground, he needed to defend himself.

Recovering, the wolf that had first attacked Link stood. Preoccupied with trying to back away from the pack and simultaneously look for his sword, Link didn't notice the beast until it was upon him. Unable to defend himself Link was knocked to the ground, agony flaring up from his arm and new pain from his now profusely bleeding side. The wind left his body and his head roared with pain and disorientation. He battered the attacker away with him with his arms and fists in a panicked attempt to defend himself.

Standing quickly, he attempted to take up a better defensive stance. Pain flared through his leg and side almost forcing him back to his knees. Managing to dodge another attack, Link felt an arrow beneath his foot. He bent and grabbed just in time to bury its head deep within the chest of an attacking wolf. It hit the ground dead, the dark blood of the canine mixing with his own on the forest floor. Pain blinding him Link barely managed to successfully injure two other wolves. They knew when they were beat, they had chosen strong prey. In one last attempt one of them leapt at him with the last ditch attempt to take down their target.

Link jumped back and immediately regretted it. With a scream of utter excruciating pain he hit the ground, one of his own clamps biting into his leg more fiercely than any wolf. More agony shot through his body blinding him, his blood spilling freely onto his scattered items. Reaching down Link grasped two things, an arrow and a strange object. Link immediately attacked the oncoming wolf with the arrow hitting it in the shoulder as hard as he could. With a yowl it ran away to the best of its ability, dragging its wounded appendage. The other wolves had already fled, leaving link alone in the dark forest.

Crying out again Link collapsed fully onto the blood soaked ground. The other object had disappeared and frankly he didn't care. His injuries probably wouldn't kill him, but he felt like he was dying. Pain lanced throughout his body, growing more intense by the second. Pure agony now replaced any thought in his mind. Lying on his side Link writhed, a single scream escaping his lips before his consciousness left him.

Restless, Rusl turned over. Uli murmured something beside him. Sighing Rusl turned over again. This time managing to sink into an uneasy sleep.

Rusl was outside in front of Link's unfinished treehouse. He was sparring with a young Link. He was reliving a memory, a wonderful memory. Though Link was a small youth, he was skilled and quick, several years of sword play behind him, having been raised by Rusl. Dodging another attack from the child, hecountered. Though Link was experienced, Rusl was his mentor after all. The fight ended as the man knocked the sword out of the youth's hand, placing the wooden tip in front of Link's throat. Any other child would have pouted about losing a match, Link would grin each time, already thinking about how to win the next one. When Rusl lowered his wooden sword Link picked up his own. Exhausted they both walked back to the village chatting and laughing merrily.

Colin had run up to greet them, a toddler at the time. He always did so back then. His mother would smile and follow the little boy. The days like that were heaven, a dream Rusl would never wish to leave.

Unfortunately, fate is cruel, but wise. The dream shifted, one to blood and fallen soldiers strewed across a battlefield. The faces of the fallen twisted in pain and fear, the ground ashen and red. The sky was grey with the red dim of fire in the distance. Among the fallen soldiers, his poor boy, the adventurous hero lay with them, his mouth seeping blood and his sapphire eyes open and dead. The boy's cold hand still clutched the sword that Rusl had made himself.

Rusl awoke to his wife's concerned and frightened face. He held her tight, letting his fears abate. Everything was fine, he should know better than to think anyone in his family wasn't safe. His breathing calmed and Uli's warm presence lulled him back to sleep. War was hard on a man, she knew, the memories would stay forever. They were safe, everything was okay.

A/N How's that? I was thinking about cutting it down, but then decided not to. This is still my some of my old writing that I fixed up. After this though, it's all free. I hadn't written anything past this. I'll post around next week, see you then! Thanks so much for the Favourites and the Follows! It really helps with my motivation. Alright, see you next week. I hope you liked it.


	3. Ch 3 Where's Link?

o much to Twilit-Dusk, Fergaze, Wingdings13, Twilight3110, Victini 7, and Brass Cogs for all the reviews, follows, and favourites! It definitely means a lot to me and helps boost my motivation to keep the chapters coming quick. The chapters might be coming quicker than I had first planned, hopefully you guys will really enjoy them. Firing up my inspiration is the real problem here. Also, if you can't tell, I love irony. Mostly verbal irony, but all this dramatic irony is A plus too. Btw, who else is pumped for BotW? I sure am! Preordered it in January (aka as soon as I could) so I would be able to get it on the 3rd. Hope you guys enjoy it as well, I'm gonna live on my wii u over spring break. (We've been waiting for years to play it, who wouldn't wanna play it for days straight?). Currently its 1AM my time and I just finished this so enjoy.

Chapter 3

Morning came far too soon for Rusl. Luckily for him, the tired man had finally convinced his wife that he was in no danger of getting seriously ill. He stood outside looking upon the crystallized village. The morning had arrived with a thin blanket of snow from the storm that blew in over the night, the beautiful flakes glistening in the early sun. The storm didn't stay for long, the village was in no danger of excessive snowfall thankfully. Colin was outside with him, shivering slightly, yet still filled with awe. The crystalline appearance of the village was entrancing to the young boy. He wasted little time in running off into the snow, enjoying it before it melted later in the day.

Rusl stayed near his house, stretching in the growing sunlight. Despite his lack of sleep, that day had started out well enough. Being able to move around and work was a relief to the man. It would feel good to use his muscles. Before long he was already heading to Bo's house. The man always had something for Rusl to do, rarely running out of tasks to gift him with. Upon arriving at the Mayor's house he was greeted with an anxious Ilia. As soon as Ilia had opened the door, Rusl could see Bo get up and immediately make his way to the other man.

"Rusl, have you seen Link?" he asked, pulling said man inside and closing the door. "Ilia was dropping something off for him when she noticed he wasn't home."

With a smile he shook his head. "I'm sure he's alright. He did this a lot when Hyrule was in danger. Knowing him he's likely headed home right now."

"Why would he stay out so late?" Ilia inquired, stepping in with curiosity.

Not fully knowing the answer Rusl shrugged. "He likes to wander, don't worry too much about it." He patted Ilia on the shoulder and grinned at Bo. The boy really did enjoy wandering, his heart was always set for the next journey.

Having settled the matter, the mayor informed him of several of the villagers requiring an extra hand in prepping for the winter. He accepted the task dutifully, gladly making his way out of the house to assist those that needed it. Getting back into the normalcy of village life wasn't just difficult for Link. Rusl had spent a long time away from everyone as well, helping around definitely helped the transition. Any opportunity to help was quickly snatched up by him or the hero. More often than not Rusl was the one to take the job. Link deserved to take a long break from basically everything. The only tasks Rusl made absolute sure the young man got were the ones that had to be done outside the village, giving him an opportunity to help the village and have a breath of freedom. Thinking about him made the older man recall what he had thought the day before. He really did need to talk to Link, many things seemed to be bothering the youth. Hopefully he wouldn't be too tired from staying out so late to talk to his mentor later.

Sure it felt good to use his muscles again, but it was still plenty tiring. While he had gladly accepted the request for help, he was starting to regret. He was still a little weak from being ill and stuck at home. With a huff he popped his pack, ready to lift another box for Sera when Colin suddenly began to head toward him. He had seen his boy a couple times that day, either playing or training. Rusl knew that Colin had been squirming with anticipation all day, wanting noon to come faster so that he could have his riding lesson with Link. A quick glance at the sky told him that it was already past noon. Slightly confused he met him halfway.

"What's wrong son?"

"I can't find Link anywhere, has he been helping you out or something?" Colin's asked, his small pout barely visible. He felt miffed about Link not showing up for his lesson, it was important to him.

Rusl paused before responding, "No, I don't think anyone has seen him today. Are you sure he isn't in bed or anything?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I've searched everywhere for him, I can't find him."

A spark of concern flashed in Rusl's mind. Without another word he headed toward Link's tree-house, Colin close behind. He climbed the ladder swiftly, reaching the door he knocked several times. The following silence lasted a minute, no noise coming from within the house. Tentatively he open the door, peering in before striding through the open doorway. Looking around he saw no sign of the young man, his bed on the loft looked like it had hardly been slept in.

"Are you sure you've looked everywhere Colin?" He asked, gently grasping his son's shoulders.

The boy nodded immediately. "I've been looking for him since noon, he said he was going to have our lesson then."

Letting go of Colin, he looked around the empty house again. The growing pit of concern in his gut was growing, Link had pretty much promised to be back by noon. The young man was not known to break his promises, especially when it came down to Rusl and his family. Running a hand down his face, he held his chin in thought.

Standing off to the side, Colin looked at his father with uncertainty. Several questions were fluttering in his head. It was likely that Link had gotten caught up in his errand, but at the same time just as unlikely. The boy wanted to know what his father was thinking about the situation, it was a slightly baffling situation, especially to the young boy. The silence dragged on for maybe a minute before Rusl finally broke it.

"I'm going to look for him, he's probably safe, but it would be better for me to check." he stated bluntly, "Go back home Colin, I'm going to inform Mayor Bo about this before I leave"

Obediently the boy left the almost empty house, sparing a glance behind his shoulder as he headed down the path to the village. Rusl was worried, he could tell that much. Both of them were silently hoping everything would turn out alright. While Colin had faith in Link returning safely, the dream that Rusl had made the man wary. It would be better to look for the young man.

Barely an hour later, Rusl was already on the path that he assumed Link had followed. He had packed light, just his sword and shield would do as long as he had a red potion to spare. The worry nagging at his mind fluctuated, increasing and shrinking as his thoughts swirled. Every now and then he would call for the young man, shouting his name. With a hopeful heart each time he would listen to it carry out loud and clear, only for his own voice to return in an echo. His hope would shrink a little bit each time, but he pressed on. The air was slowly becoming more frigid as the day went on, the frozen ground beneath Rusl's feet was hard and tracks were rare. To the best of his abilities he kept his eye out for any sign of the hero, his ears open to any sound that wasn't his own feet crushing fallen leaves.

Waking up isn't a pleasant thing in the first place, but when one wakes up to the piercing agony of cold sharp metal digging into their leg, that's a whole new level of "unpleasant". A sharp cry escaped Link as he tried to move at all. Okay, unpleasant was definitely an understatement. A shudder ran through the hero, his thoughts in shambles as he tried to process what was going on. A pained groan caught in his throat as he assessed his injuries. Quite a few things hurt (his leg being one), everything felt bruised, and...He was covered in fur. Yes, fur. Any outrage that bubbled in his conscious was snuffed out as he heard a voice ring out. Not good. Pain could wait, Link needed to get away from that area. If anyone found a "monster" like him caught in a trap, he'd be killed in a heartbeat.

Standing was a feat that made killing Ganondorf seem easy, a low whine had been building up with each movement. Everything hurt, but at least he could move. Shaking some of the dizziness from his head, he looked at the mess his leg was in. Sweet Nayru it was bloody. His hind leg was clamped firmly in the teeth of one of his traps. The only thing saving it from being cut clean off was the hilt of his sword. Great, it appeared that fate only wished to maim him, not make him permanently impaired. That was definitely comforting... not. Deep, but superficial lacerations covered him in many places, puncture wounds as well. Just thinking about the extent of his wounds caused him growl, glaring slightly at the dead body of one of the wolves nearby.

The cold, unforgiving ground numbed some parts of his wounds, making his next task just a little easier. With as much precision as he could muster with 2 paws and canine teeth he grasped his sword. The blade was still within its scabbard, making it easier to hold. Bracing the part of the hilt within the trap against one side of the trap he used the sword as a lever. The entire time Link held a grimace as he pulled the sword towards himself, the teeth of the trap slowly seperating. What felt like a lifetime later, he managed to slip his bloody hind leg out of the metal maw.

Exhausted, Link relaxed his body. He was still in pain, sadly there was very little he could do about it. He had almost forgotten the voice he had heard before it rang out once again. Immediately his ears perked up, the canine hearing easily picking the details out. It was Rusl, this was bad, really bad. He was looking for him, calling his name. As much as Link would have loved to go to the man to get his wounds taken care of, he would be killed if he did. Killed by the man that had practically raised him. What a horrible way to go. Mustering what strength he could, Link stood. Pain rippled from all over his body, his hind leg was the worst. He kept his weight off of it the best he could, it was difficult with his front leg in pain, but he managed. The air was cold, not getting past his coat yet it bit relentlessly into his wounds.

The first step was the worst, his front leg buckled, bringing him to the ground. The rustling of fallen leaves crackled around his ears when he hit the solid earth. Standing up again, he braved another step, limping slowly away from the catastrophe from the previous night. He heard Rusl call out for him again, the desperation in the man's voice was faint and heartbreaking to the hero. He would be long gone before the older man reached the messy scene, or so he thought. Link had been heading back the way he came, not even 10 feet away from him stood his mentor.

Both man and wolf froze, locking eyes. The wolf was obviously wounded in many places, it was favouring its back leg. The man held the desperate, aged look of a scared parent. Man and beast stared at each other, the wolf seeming just as surprised as the man. Hardly even a couple seconds passed before the human's face contorted into the fierce, protective rage only a father possesses. He unsheathed his sword, brandishing it high he gave a great shout at the beast, sending it scurrying as fast as it could away from the human. Satisfied that it wouldn't harm him or what he was searching for, the man walked on, keeping to the path as the rustling leaves of the fleeing wolf disappeared.

While the experience was odd, it wasn't uncommon to see such animals in the woods. Rusl had barely paid much attention to the wounded beast, it was only a hindrance in his search for Link. If he had time he would have put it out of its misery, except the sun was already dipping low in the sky. There was little time left in the day. Winter days were much shorter than those in the summer, he was running out of time.

It didn't take him much longer to find a clue to what he was looking for. If only it was more comforting than disheartening. Rusl had been following the path carefully, watching the ground for the traps that he had sent Link out there to check. Alongside the path was the remains of what looked to be a young doe. The body was ripped and torn, the deep puncture wounds all over the remaining skin and flesh gave evidence that it was not a bokoblin's work. Rusl crouched down next to it, the lower legs had remained rather intact except for one. The jagged bloody marks and broken bone showed that it had been caught in a trap. Considering the wound was recent, it looked like it had been removed from the trap the night before. Removing his eyes from the gruesome scene, he walked on. At least now he knew he was heading in the right direction.

Scarcely even a minute later, the crunching of leaves and twigs turned into the sharp snap of a well-made arrow. With a sympathetic wince to the well-made material, Rusl bent down and picked up the broken pieces of the shaft. As soon as he picked it up though, he dropped it. The shaft had been stained a dark rusty red. The broken shards hit the leaves with a bounce, the dark head of the arrow landed next to another fallen arrow. Upon close inspection, the rusty colours of the leaves was inconsistent. There was splotches and splatters, a large oak was covered in splatter. Stepping around the large tree, Rusl froze. The scene before him was distrubing.

Several dead wolves lay around the scene, scattered arrows and equipment was everywhere. Undried blood lay in vast puddles around the bodies of the wolves. Forcing himself to inspect the equipment, he stepped forward, careful to avoid another trap nearby. Upon closer inspection, Rusl found that all of the equipment was Link's. The handy bag that had held all of it lay next to the dead body of a wolf. The sheer amount of blood in the small area was daunting, the smell was intense, as though a knight had been wearing hot armour all day. The metallic scent stuck in the air like a nail to a wall, the slowly increasing scent of dead flesh following behind.

Kneeling on the ground he discovered a bloodied trap, the metallic shine was dulled by the deep red surrounding it. Within the trap was an incredibly familiar sword, one that he had made himself as a gift to the royal family. With a grunt he pulled the trap apart far enough to get it out. Princess Zelda had given it back to Link all those months ago, a kind refusal so that he wouldn't be left without a weapon. The young man was proud of it, maybe not as much as the aster sword, but it came from where he grew up. It was important, he wouldn't leave it behind.

A shiver raced down Rusl's spine, he sighed in hope that his worry would dim. It didn't. Upon closer observation everything was a mess, but he was able to barely guess what happened. It was blatantly obvious that Link had been attacked, likely by surprise. Something had happened to cause the scattering of Link's weapons, he hadn't killed the wolves with his sword, he killed them with his arrows. Everything led up to his apparent victory, but the only problem was the hero was still missing. Setting the Ordon Sword down, Rusl ran a nervous hand through his hair. He anxiously walked around the area again, trying to discover where the young man had disappeared to.

The ever-growing pit of concern in his gut leapt to his heart. Desperately he shouted Link's name again, like he had done before. When no response came back to him he shouted again, much louder, his voice ready to break. The sudden frantic beating of his heart threatened to deafen him as it pounded in his ears. Again and again he called for him. Memories of calling him back inside all those years ago pushed at the back of his eyes, threatening to fall down his face as hope turned to despair. There was no sign of the boy, his final call for him turned into a pained croak as his voice turned hoarse and broke. Defeated, he fell back onto his knees next to the sword he had forged himself. His hands in his hair, he brought his chin to his chest. He felt utterly defeated.

Rusl knelt there for what felt like an eternity before he had the strength to stand again. With a renewed, but wounded vigor he continued his search. The ground held no tracks to follow besides a few splatters of blood. With the final desperation of a wounded father he followed the trail.

The sun was kissing the horizon by the time he reached the end of the trail, he had stumbled upon a dark den. Upon getting close to it, two dark shapes emerged. Both beasts had pelts as dark as shadows, their teeth a stunning ivory white. One was wounded, but both of them attacked at once. With a roar that Rusl didn't think he had in him, he slaughtered them. The dead bodies crumpled to the ground.

Upon the death of both of the beasts he scrambled to their den. Praying and hoping beyond hope that his boy wasn't dead in there. The entrance of the den was too small for him, with a groan of despair he sank down. His efforts were becoming useless by the minute. For all he knew, Link was dead. Dead because he had sent him on an errand all by himself. Memories and loss rolled down his face in their crystal clear forms. He couldn't find his boy and all signs pointed to the untimely death of the hero.

An involuntary cry escaped the lips of the older man. What had he done? What had he done? Oh goddesses, he had handed his boy over to death when he could've protected him. She should have, he should have. He couldn't help his boy now, the utter despair grasped his heart tighter and tied up his windpipe. He struggled to breathe. His dream the previous night felt more real that day at dusk. He had failed. The boy's glassy eyed body was likely stuck in that dark hole that those /monsters/ lived in. The older man was far too broad to ever fit in there, while the younger has been known to slip through smaller.

Ripples of emotional pain shot through Rusl as he sat there by the entrance to the den. With his hands clutching his head he sat, letting his heart hurt. He shamelessly let the pain roll down his face in tears, preparing himself to get up and go back home. No... It wasn't really home without Link. Sweet Nayru, what was he going to tell everyone? He had spent over half the day searching in growing despair for his boy with nothing to show for but bloody discarded weapons that had belonged to the hero.

By the time Rusl had managed to compose himself the sun had almost set completely. With his bones creaking in protest he stood, each heartbeat adding to his pain and dread he headed home. He forced himself to hurry, picking up the bloodied weapons as he came across them again. He carried the stained pouch in his arms, the ordon sword was strapped across his back with his own sword and shield. The extra weight was hardly a burden compared to the pain and dread of confronting the village.

It was deep into the night when he arrived, his pain almost forgotten. A rage replaced the majority of the pain, an anger at himself and at those _/monsters_ / that had taken his boy away from him. If he ever saw a wolf again it would be too soon, and if he did, it would be dead before it could even think about running. They had taken Link, they would take no one else.


	4. Ch 4 The Bite of Guilt

A/N Thanks for all the follows and favourites! The reviews are great too. I've been really procrastinating lately. Partially because of writer's block, but I also didn't feel like it. I hope I can upload before Friday (I will be spending hours on BotW so I probably won't have time to write much). Anyway, enjoy everyone!

Chapter 4

The immense feeling of fatigue had already claimed his body hours ago. The wolf was definitely worse for wear. Link was having trouble navigating the slightly unfamiliar forest. His wounds ached and itched, the pain deep and insufferable. With a scattered sense of direction he could only hope he was heading someplace safe. Besides his... unfortunate... encounter with Rusl, he had faced little trouble. Sure the pain hurt like hell and his fatigue caused him to hack and slow down, but other than that nothing really got in his way or anything. He was free to suffer alone in a darkening forest with exhaustion weighing his bones down.

At this point Link only wanted to find a water source. Anything to relieve his thirst and cleanse his wounds. While the sky darkened his hopes of finding water drained quickly. An exhausted huff turned into a whimper as he flopped onto the hard, leaf covered, ground. Another whimper followed suit as he lay there, his thoughts adrift with his pain. He couldn't go home, he was a monster. He was also very lost. The bluntness of reality stung, what was he to do? Being alone in such a situation made everything so much more difficult.

Overhead the leaves rustled softly as a chilly breeze blew. Closing his eyes for a second, Link took a deep breath. After a couple seconds, he composed his thoughts. The cold breeze ruffled his fur and scraped his wounds with its chill. The sharp pain helped bring his mind to the surface much faster. With a grunt he stood and carried on. His head drooped as he limped along. There was a long night ahead of him.

What felt like eternity later saw to Link resting again a bit farther away. A deep sigh escaped the poor hero, the leaves in front of his snout drifted away as he did so. The pain of his wouds reached to his heart as well. His sore appendages felt as heavy as his heart at that point. He was done, so exhausted. He had barely been paying attention to his surroundings until a warm scent drifted on the breeze.

With a start, he sat up with his nose high in the air. Salivation ringed his mouth as he caught the scent of cooking meat. With a gorwl to rival his a monster's, his stomach grumbled angrily, informing him of his neglect to fill it. With his hope slightly restored, he followed the scent eagerly. As long as he got something to eat and drink he would be happy.

The eagerness for a warm and filling meal added energy to Link's pace that he didn't know he had left. Hunger was consuming him, his mind fixated on the intoxicating scent.

The distance seemed far, with fatigue still clouding everything it made it seem farther. Aching wounds and sore paws did little to hinder him though. Within his cloudy sight, Link spotted the warmth of a fire. With little thought he headed toward it, stumbling several times. Just on the edge of the firelight he collapsed. A low whine penetrating the dark around him.

Through his glazed sight he barely made out the image of a figure approach. Wearily, he closed his eyes to clear his vision. When he opened them his senses went wild. In front of him sat a bowl of that wonderful food he had smelled. Immediately he lifted his heavy, shaggy head, and scarfed down everything in the bowl

Just the effort of lifting his head was far too difficult at that point. Link plopped his head onto his uninjured front leg, eyes drifting closed involuntarily. Another bowl was placed in front of him, this one filled with water. The strenuous effort of lifting his head again was worth it. Lapping up the pleasant liquid eased his throat and headache.

A content sigh was all he could offer to the dark figure as he drifted off for the last time that night. His gratitude could be shown when he had the energy. Right then was a time to recover from his long journey and painful experience. Things could be addressed when he was ready to address him. Right then was time to sleep.

The familiar creak of the door easily roused Uli. The woman sat up in her bed, fright grasping her heart. "Rusl, is that you?" She whispered, a slight quaver in her voice.

"Yes dear, just... go back to sleep." He responded quietly. He wasted little time in preparing for bed. It only took him a couple minutes to settle in with her. The hour was early, the sun still low below the horizen. With drooping eyes, Uli drifted back into her sleep, unaware of the state her husband was in.

For the villagers, the next day was welcome come morning. A new day, new experiences, more progress. For Rusl, if morning never came it wouldn't matter to him. In fact, he wished it never would come, that the day before never existed. He wished his world hadn't been destroyed within a matter of hours. His bones ached and his eyes felt sunken from exhaustion. The world was too daunting, the dread heavy and painful.

Having not slept a wink, Rusl rose from the warmth of his blankets. It was still an hour from the time his family would wake. With a heavy heart and small fluttering fire of fury in his heart, he left his home. Nobody stirred as the door clicked shut and his boots crunched along the frozen path to the Mayor's house.

Of course, human nature is strong. The strong urges to protect oneself and others is intense. The apprehension of stressful and emotional situations is one thing that one would wish to avoid. A simple knock on the door held right abve the wood, perfectly poised yet unmoving. The curled fist taught with a boiling stew of unexpressed emotion, frozen as solid as a neglected cup of water in winter. At a point like that, stuck in a limbo of unaddressed dread and stess, a man may go over the reason why he is in that state. At that very point, a man, a father even may reflect upon the dreadful reasons why he was standing before an locked door with his fist just as locked. Why he, a protective father, was standing there with loss plucking his heart strings like a harp. At that point, he is allowed to breakdown.

Those with courage and willpower can overcome obstacles. Obstacles such as an unswallowable lump stuck in the throat. A quick swipe across the face can remedy the liquid escapee running down one's cheek. So, in such a case, an obstacle like that could easily be overcome with calm composure. The poised hand then able to strike the rough wood of a door.

On that chilly morning, the sun peeking just above the horizon, Mayor Bo was rudely awakened. His daughter still asleep in her loft, his tired feet dragged on the floor to the door. Looking back upon the situation, he wished that he hadn't. He wished that he hadn't let the beat down, despairing man into his home. He had nothing against the man, only what came of that meeting. He wished he'd never sat him down and hastily lit a fire for the kettle. Oh, how he wished.

Yet, no one has ever been able to revoke their actions like that. So the cconsequences stuck with the fat man.

The faintness of Rusl's consciousness made it difficult to speak and understand. Exhaustion twirled his vision around, his attentiveness on a string. With a monotonous, somehow emotional voice, he explained his woes. Across from him sat Bo, whom he hardly payed attention too as he recounted what he had discovered. The other man's shocked emotions were lost on Rusl.

The horror of the event had already passed through Rusl. Bo had to experience the lesser version shortly, his daughter would wake soon. The swordsman rested his head on the table, the pain and exhaustion showing through his countenance. Anxious suggestions and theories fell onto deaf ears, Rusl had no heart or energy for it.

Bo babbled in denial to the man. Hope and wishful thinking fluttered uselessly from his mouth. Minutes dragged on as he slowly became silent, his face falling into his hands. He knew it was useless to bargain like that, when hope of finding Link was all but gone. Only a couple suggestions remained.

"Rusl, we could search for him. Maybe he's.. yknow, not... gone. We should at least contact the Resistance." Bo tried again, "They should know, and, well... maybe they could help...?" He trailed off, there was no use.

A span of silence followed Bo's final spiel before Rusl looked up. "I'll... I'll write to the Resistance. We'll look, but..." Rusl paused as he sighed deeply, "I just don't know, Bo. I feel that he is lost to us... I don't want to get my hopes up."

A nod of solemn understanding came from the mayor. Again the silence stretched as the sun rose higher and higher, the village stirring.

"We won't be telling the village about this, okay? Let them have their bliss until we're sure if Link is..." Bo left it there, not wanting to think of it.

Rusl grunted softly in response. His head rested on his arms as waves of emotions washed over him. He was sure Link was gone. He had indirectly murdered his boy by sending him alone. The guilt was suffocating, unable to breathe due to the tightness in his chest. Gradually his chest tightened more and more, he grasped his head with both hands, breathing quickly. The emotions and utter pain shook his shoulders as he breathed. He was scarcely aware of a blanket being placed around his shoulders. He was too deep in his thoughts to notice anything,

Rusl wasn't aware of Bo and Ilia starting their day around him. He wasn't aware of Bo keeping Ilia away from him. There was no reality, only thoughts. He was lost in them, sitting at the small table in the large house. He wasn't aware of drifting off with the blanket drawn tight. That man had suffered so much, the least Bo could do is let him sleep.


	5. Ch 5 Alone Against the World

A/N BotW has taken over my life. Unfortunately, I forgot to account for my brother wanting to play as much as I do. So, now I have time to write because he takes over the wii u frequently. I have a right to be angry though, I spent 97 bucks on the game, the expansion pack, and wolf link. Anyway, enough rambling. Its awesome, those of you that don't have it yet, don't worry. I don't spoil things. All I've basically done so far is explore after getting to the main Hyrule area. (Classically I climbed the tallest mountain nearby, I just like climbing). Wolf Link is the best wolf, even though he can be problematic sometimes (like getting killed by a guardian and chasing off all the birds and lizards). I'm gonna stop talking about it now. I hope you guys enjoy it too! Enjoy this chapter as well, its gonna be a bit long though so be prepared (not too long, no worries). Thanks for all the favourites, follows, and reviews! They mean a lot! Next chapter the Resistance comes in so be prepared for that too.

Chapter 5

The murky confines of a troubled sleep is hard to escape. The swirling dark of a colourless dream holds a person tight. The typically easy task of lifting one's eyelids feels impossible, as though they were weighed down by stones. Its frustrating to say in the least.

The battle for consciousness went on for ages. Eventually Link's eyelids finally raised, releasing him from his dreamless sleep. Upon reentering the hellhole known as "reality" he discovered the familiar feeling of snuggly wrapped bandages around his wounds. With a start he attempted to sit up. When did those get there? The alarm was short lived as he unceremoniously collapsed back onto the ground with a yelp. Right, wounds hurt, how could he forget?

Remaining alert he tentatively sniffed the clumsily wrapped bandage on his front leg. It smelled of honey and dried blood. While the medical attention was sloppy, at least the chances of infection were lowered. Even though he could feel the wound on his side festering a bit, the honey would help.

Link noticed it was dark wherever he was. The familiar, musty scent of old wood and wool suggested he was inside a building. Letting his eyes adjust to the gloom he felt that he should know where he was. As though he had definitely been there. Little rays of light shone through the boards of a closed window above him.

With a start he realized where he must be. At first it seemed impossible. Really it seemed more like luck, at least he wouldn't be killed there. He knew that at least.

Where he was laying wasn't exactly comfortable, but he couldn't complain. At least he was warm. The floor wasn't an ideal place to be, but the old blanket underneath him made it slightly more comfortable. With a series of pops and a deep sigh he stretched a bit, taking advantage of the warmth around him to get comforable. He was safe at least, though the bandage on his hind leg was irritating him.

He was starting to drift off when he heard footprints outside. Again he tried to sit up quickly, and again he regretted it immediately. A whimper escaped him before he could stop it. Wounds hurt, surely he could remember that.

The door creaked open slowly, inside stepped the very familiar curly haired man named Coro. Unsure of what to do, Link sank close to the floor. He knew that the friendly man wouldn't hurt him (especially since it appeared that he had helped him), but he was still wary. Uncertainty flashed throughout his body. Would he be kicked out now that he was awake?

Without so much as a glance in Link's direction, the man set up a warm fire inside his house. He pulled out a large pot and several items of food. Looking at the food reminded Link of the mans terrible cooking. Wait, didn't he eat some of that the night before? He flattened his ears at the thought, at least he didn't have a stomach ache. Perhaps Coro's culinary skills had improved.

Meanwhile, the curly-haired man was busy preparing a stew of some sort. The entire time he was doing so he never once looked at Link, he was too busy preparing the food. Entranced, the wolf watched Coro cook. It wasn't too terribly interesting, but the poor hero was quite bored.

As the stew's preparation dragged on, his boredom increased. Plus, the too tight bandage around his hind leg was /really/ starting to bother him. The annoyance at it gradually increased until he couldn't take it anymore. With a mix between a huff and a soft growl he turned his head to tug on it. Immediately after he grasped the fabric in his mouth he was thumped on the head.

Now, the ladle didn't hurt that bad at all really, but it did catch him off guard. Who knew that Coro was good at throwing ladles? Link certainly didn't. With a surprised woof, he turned to look at the approaching man.

"Bad boy! I spent a lot of time dressing those, I don't need you ripping them off!" He exclaimed, scolding the hero quite thoroughly. The usually mellow man picked up his cooking utensil. "Now, be good and you'll get an extra helping of food."

Quite shocked and feeling pretty cowed, Link watched him go back to cooking. Coro did not appear to want any kind of nonsense that day. He didn't appear super agitated, just sort of peeved about something. With a confused sigh, the wounded hero rested his head back on his front leg. Keeping an eye on the ladle, he nursed his slightly injured ego.

It didn't take much longer for the food to be finished cooking. Coro placed a bowl of it in front of himself and Link. While it didn't appear to be very appetizing, it did smell really good. It was probably the canine part of him that made it seem a lot better than it actually was.

Despite the appearance of the food it didn't taste that bad. Probably cause Link did less tasting and more swallowing it all whole in his eagerness. Coro placed another helping into the bowl and some water alongside it. It took little to no time for the wolf to finish off both, a warm and content stomach leaving him satisfied.

Coro took longer to finish his food, the hero took that oppurtunity to rub his too-tight bandage on the ground. A relieved sigh blew out his nose as the material loosened nicely. With shaky legs, he carefully stood and walked to the door. He might as well be on his way to someone that could help him for real.

Seeing Link standing by the door, the curly haired man got up to open it. He knew that if the wolf was smart, he would come back inside soon after. If he wasn't, well, sucks for him.

As soon as the door opened, Link didn't hesitate to step outside. He almost immediately regretted it. His paws sank into the frigid layer of snow on the ground. It was at least six inches. The sun just barely shone through the clouds, indicating that it was midday. With a yelp of shock he stepped back inside. The cold was bothering his injuries.

"Cold, ain't it little guy?" Coro said with a chuckle, "Looks like it's gonna keep comin' too."

Before Coro could shut the door, Link stepped outside again. Even if it hurt to stay out there, he needed the exercise and to be relieved. No wonder the man seemed peeved, he might end up being snowed in if it kept snowing like that. He wandered away from the house until he was out of sight. He had no intention of staying away though.

Once he had enough of being out in the icy world, the hero limped back to the house. With a huff he started scratching at the door. It felt slightly degrading, having to act like a domestic animal like that. Yet, he would rather not freeze his exposed injuries in the snow.

He was let in quickly, the old blanket he had been laying on was by the fire. He grunted softly as he limped over to the fire and settled down. Okay, maybe being a domestic animal wasn't all that bad, at least he got to lay by the fire. He offered a greatful look to the man as he slowly closed his eyes, looking forward to a restful nap. He was worn out just by going outside, the recovery process was going to take awhile. Of course, the best remedy for many types of injuries is sleep, so that's what he did. A content wolf by a warm fire, able to let go of his worries and fears and just heal. His situation no longer seemed as bad at that moment.

It was far past midday when Rusl was awoken. Uli had gone looking for him about then, finally discovering that he was at Bo's home. The gentle wife of the exhausted swordsman woke him carefully. He had come home late, him falling asleep in odd places wasn't uncommon when he did that. The state her husband was in didn't seem to faze the woman that much. While his eyes were sunken and his face drawn low, it was easy to blame sleep deprivation for it.

After being woken up, Rusl walked home in the snow with his beloved wife. He was in no mood to talk and even less so about what had happened. First he would inform the Resistance of the situation, then he would break the news to his wife. His heart fluttered in protest, already pumping the weight of dread to his extremities.

The pen and parchment he picked up gained the weight of a goron as he walked to his table. They dragged him down, his feet scraped the floor as the short distance was covered. He sat in the chair with a heavy thud. He was vaguely aware of Colin coming home as his hand shook with the weight of the charcoal.

He hadn't even begun writing when the concerned face of his son came into view. It took him a moment to realize that the boy had been trying to catch his attention. He looked at him, slowly composing himself. His boy shouldn't see him like that, so vulnerable, he was an idol to the boy as much as Link was... used to be at least.

"Are you okay?" Colin asked with sincerety.

There was hardly any pause before Rusl brushed it off. "I'm fine son, just tired. Why don't you go play with Talo and his dog? Enjoy the snow a bit more, okay?"

Hesitantly, the blonde boy nodded before walking outside again. His father was acting really weird, maybe it was because Link wasn't home yet. It seemed likely, his father would always worry for the young man. It was his job as a parent to worry. He let the odd experience go, Rusl was probably just tired like he said and worried for Link. The man hadn't found the hero so it was safe to assume the young man was just taking his time.

Rusl was halfway through the letter when he was forced to stop. He would've continued just to get it over with if he could see. Frustrated he slammed a fist on the table, startling Uli while she was rocking their baby girl on the bed. An unwelcome tear slid down his face in an attempt to blink his vision clear. He hid it from Uli, ignoring her confused concern.

He kept the letter short and to the point, mainly requesting Ashei's presence. Her impressive fighting skills and effectiveness in weather like snow would be useful. He invited the others as well, knowing that they would probably come anyway. He left it on an emphasis about the urgency of the matter, he would tell them about Link in person.

Another tear escaped as he sealed the envelope, his frustration building. He was sick of all his emotional suffering, but he couldn't just make it stop with sheer willpower. It hurt too much, oh Din how it hurt.

The postman had always been easy to find luckily. Despite the cold, the odd man dutifully took the letter and ran off. He had been hanging around the goats like he usually did, making it easy for Rusl to locate him. He watched the strange man disappear in the white landscape, leaving him alone in a smelly goat barn.

It was time to tell Uli. Rusl had walked back to his cozy home that had never felt so empty. Stepping inside felt wrong. Colin was still out playing, the baby asleep, and his wife was using her freetime to tidy their small living space.

It was unceremonious. All he did was grab her so that she was looking into those sad sad eyes. Within them pools of torment and failure raged, the dark circles around them brightened the gleam of liquid. Threatening to overflow, memories had pushed against his eyes and he talked.

He talked without thinking, but with enough emotion to choke a horse. He spoke, hearing his voice tell his beautiful wife a terrible tale. A tale of unwanted truth and a negligent father. Those pools of torment and suffering spilled as he watched her own replicate his. The pain in her eyes mimicking his as though through murky water. The reflection not quite exact, but close, uncannily close.

The floodgates of pain broke then. The swordsman held his wife tight as she sobbed, him with her. He had sounded so sure of the demise of their boy. Their precious boy. The emptiness of the house echoed their lament. It would always sound empty without both of their brave young men.

Time runs out and tears do too. Rusl recovered before his wife, drying her tears as she wept openly. He held her as she cried. They both suffered in it together as any great parents would. They suffered as their hearts bled freely.

An eternity later Uli composed herself. She continued on with her duties, her eyes puffy and hands trembling. Dinner was put in the pot, cutting items was wordlessly left to Rusl. She couldn't do it then. Dinner was prepared and Colin was called back, Uli did that. Rusl's voice still suffered from the other day.

Nothing was spoken about during dinner. Silence followed them well into their sleep. The delicate and tedious task of caring for the baby were the only sounds made that night. All of them exhausted for different reasons except for man and wife. So they laid together in the warmth of their bed in the empty house.

Sleep claimed them with difficulty. The troubled night terrors plagued Rusl, Uli lay awake with tears staining the pillow quietly. Her own memories with the boys escaping in liquid. She held one, looking at the glistening drop. The others all slipping away. The future for her boy cut off so soon. It hurt her more than imaginable.

The time of rest was lost on Uli. Like her husband the night before she lay in bed, very much awake. Her husband troubled in his own dreams, she clung to him. They laid there like that, dead to the world. Just them to fight their pain together.


	6. Ch 6 Ailments of the Mind and Body

A\N My tablet is being a lil jerk lately so sorry. I've also been pretty busy, I murdered my wrist playing violin. Do remember as well, I write late at night so half the time I'm 90% asleep so any major mistakes might slip past me. Or if I'm not making any sense blame it on that or my tablet constantly deleting some of its contents. Anyway, enjoy. If I break my tablet in frustration it may take awhile for me to update again. (Seriously, I was proud of the beginning and next thing I know I gotta rewrite it again cause it got deleted)

Chapter 6

The murkiness that accompanies sickness is a dreadful one. It drags and pulls in different directions, sometimes scarcely even allowing a breath of consciousness. The pain of fever and headaches adding sharp lances straight through the darkness of troubled sleep. Link unfortunately was suffering in that manner. The wound on his side had become infected despite Coro's best efforts. The man just wasn't a healer.

The wolf spent 2 days in and out of consciousness. The time that passed felt more like a week to the hero. Dreams were blurry and incoherent, the burning festering of his side was the only warmth he could detect. His dulling coat felt inadequate against the shivers that washed up and down his body. The fire did little to help. Coro remained mostly by his side, likely being concerned about the animal or just because he probably didn't have anything better to do.

The sickness itself wasn't as bad as it felt. It still left him weak and trembling once the fever broke within the 2nd night of it, but it did not appear to have the power to kill him. On the 3rd morning of fighting off the infection, Link woke early. Coro wasn't up yet even though it appeared to be nearing midday.

He didn't realize his delirium was so intense upon waking. Lethargy pulled on his mind, helping to twist it. With hardly a thought he limped to the door. Almost all his wounds were healing nicely, the less serious ones well on the way to recovery. Despite that, he was still incredibly weak.

It took him 4 minutes to successfully open the frustrating door with his teeth. The only thing on his mind was getting proper treatment. Faron's spring would definitely suffice. His misery would be ended soon. The days of recovery were a blur in his memory, nobody had crossed his mind. Worry, pain, and delirium were the only things that remained imprinted.

Weakness was the main problem for the wolf. Deep, throaty coughs forced their way past his mouth every now and then. While the smaller wounds were all but healed, he still limped and trembled as he walked. He knew then that he shouldn't have waited at Coro's. He could have used what little energy he had to make it to where he was heading at that moment.

The path to Faron's spring was unused by anything bigger than a rabbit. The glistening snow had to be at least a foot deep by then. In his heart Link felt that if he should die that winter, he would rather die outside. Not within the confines of a dusty shack, but outside where he was free.

Nobody crossed his mind over the past days of his suffering. Even then he could hardly think. The snow slowed him down considerably. The once easy treck to the healing spring left him shivering and whimpering as his wounds ached with the cold, soothing only to the infected one.

The snow melted around his legs, the cold snowmelt numbed his paws pained him greatly. The bandages started to slip off as the water weakened them. By the time he stumbled to the end of the path his bandages had disappeared into the snow. He practically crawled to the spring, snow covered every inch of him.

Determined to live another day, the barely conscious wolf dragged himself closer to the spring, only to stop at the edge. Fate must've been taunting him. Before the lethargic, trembling, and miserable hero lay the frozen surface of the spring.

The fairies had long since abandoned the area, likely to find someplace warm. In desperation Link put his paw on the solid surface. Nothing happened, there was magic to heal his wounds. The water was frozen with no way to heal him, the magic within it as solid as the liquid it resided in. He was going to die there, with no one to help him. Alone.

That's when he broke. He had been desperately fighting for his life over the past few days, only to be brought down by an accumulation of insults to his injuries. If he could have shed tears, he would have cried in despair. Instead he whimpered and whined as he lay at the edge of the frozen water.

The snow closest to him continued to melt slowly, gradually drenching his fur as he lay there. His wounds number as his ears did as well. He didn't have the heart or strength to get up. He was far too weak. Above him the trees rustled in a chilly breeze, snow drifted lazily off the branches. If he truly was going to die then, that was how he preferred to go.

The sun rose higher as his body grew more numb. It shone through the grey clouds, shining a pleasantly muted yellow. He had no fight left in him before he heard the familiar crunch of several boots on snow. His ears perked to the best of their numbed abilities. He hadn't actually been laying there as long as he thought, but that didn't make anything more tolerable.

The noises were coming from the forest, not the village. Even in his cloudy mindset it still intrigued him. His eyes drifted close, he felt as though he were fading. Almost like he was running out of breath, but no matter how hard he breathed he wouldn't be able to stop it from slowly leaking out. Yet it wasn't tangible in any form. The footsteps drew closer, for the first time in forever he felt terror, he didn't want to go. He whimpered in fear, the past few days had been horrid and the grand finale of it all was worse.

The snow was all around him, almost obscuring him from view. It clung to his body and wet fur. His shivering slowed. It felt like he was dying, but he still had time. Time to suffer in as he lay, dying by himself. He quietly prayed that he wouldn't be discovered and at the same time he prayed that he would. If he were to die let him die fighting or peacefully. At the moment it all seemed logical, that it was the end. In reality it sounded too... poetic... pathetic even, to assume that he would die then.

Fear still clung to him as closely as the snow did. For him it was rare. A few whimpers and whines escaped him. His consciousness continued to fade. The cold swooped down around him, ready to take another victim. The trembling increased wildly, more whines came. He felt pathetic, but too scared to truly think through his stubborn lethargy and delirium. A hacking fit hit him just after he realized the many footfalls had been getting louder.

More fear stuck him and he lashed out in primal defense when something grabbed him. He bit the so called attacker in his fear before he felt himself slowly shutting down. Darkness clouded his vision as his eyelids drifted shut.

Time had passed by in a trickling stream of uncertainty and anxiety. It had been several days since Rusl had sent his letter and each day he would find an excuse to be away from the village. He remained near the entrance of the Ordon Spring day in and day out. He avoided everyone, to protect them. He even avoided his own son Colin. He couldn't know what had happened yet. Nobody could know, most especially his remaining boy.

Anxiety over the future encounter with the Resistance plagued him constantly. There was no "easy" or "good" or even a "proper" way to inform them of his failure to protect their youngest member. He had no idea how they would react. With luck they would take it well, especially after their search for the young hero would turn up fruitless. There really was no easy way.

The swordsman remained shivering near the spring each day. He was always either pacing a path in the accumlating snow or shivering on a rock in the almost nonexistent sunlight. Every day he would wait impatiently for them, dread and anxiety collected around his heart. He wasn't ready for Farore's sake. It was remarkably stressful for him.

When the actual arrival of them happened he didn't know what to do. Neither was he aware of the certain blonde haired boy watching from a snowy hiding place. Rusl's good companions arrived late into the day. The only missing member besides Link was Telma, she had a business to run after all.

He saw them far before they saw him. A heavy fog hung over the ravine, obscuring the other side and most of the bridge. Despite the difficulty he could see their outlines. His heart picked up the beat, using his heart strings almost like a whip. He felt the pain and utter dread of the encounter strike. The lash of the strings leaving his entire body trembling slightly. Sweet Nayru, he was not prepared.

Their slow approach allowed time for his heart to pick up more speed, then proceed to exhaust itself. The emotions that had raced through his veins left him drained and with his windpipe tied as though by an expert. The trembling had ceased by the time he dully greeted them with eyes as old as the sea.

It was common knowledge to Rusl's family that if something was off, then it was off. Poor little Colin had applied that knowledge to his parents' increasingly odd behaviour. He wasted little time to follow his father that fateful day. It was freezing outside, the frigid boy shivered in his hiding spot for hours. He watched his father pace and sit in intervals.

For hours there was little change and Colin was ready to mark his father's behaviour as simlple worrying he saw shadows approach from across the ravine. Rusl noticed them too. The boy watched the usually strong countenance of his parent waver. It wasn't right.

The closer they got the more he realized that those people matched the perfect description of the Resistance. A small gasp escaped his lips as he peered at them carefully. He couldn't hear them, but their body language changed a lot. They were listening to Rusl intently. Their expressions turning from a furrowed brow to shock in seconds. Something was horribly wrong, Colin realized that then.

It didn't take him long to come to the conclusion that it involved a certain absent hero. The boy remained in place as the group quickly made their way into the village. The thought nagged at his mind, his unwavering faith in Link's abilities and bravery did not allow him to explore the darker possibilities. Of course everyone was wondering where the kind hero had gone, but it wasn't uncommon for him to disappear for weeks on end. The Resistance could be there for a different reason. Colin quickly dismissed any worry for his "older brother".

When he knew they were out of sight, Colin went back into the village as well. He immediately headed home, worry being the last thing on his mind. Upon opening the door he was immediagely smothered, taken by surprise by his mother. She was exuding anxiety and relief. He definitely did not expect to be greeted like that.

A question formed on his lips, but before he could say anything his mother burst.

"Where were you? I asked around all day to see if anyone had seen you! You had me so worried Colin! Nobody knew where you had gone!" His now angry mother spouted a seemingly endless stream of relief and scorn. He was not prepared for that at all.

The poor boy was quite taken aback by the suddenness of the whole situation. He stammered incoherently in an attempt to answer the barrage of questions being thrown at him. He did not understand why his mother was acting that way, she had never reacted in such a manner when he had done similar things.

After looking him over several times and bombarding him with a thousand questions, Uli finally let her son be. Not after thoroughly scolding him first, obviously. She had been worried. Her heart had been woven into a tapestry of fear over her remaining son. It was too soon to lose another loved one. Far too soon. She couldn't, she wouldn't be able to bear it.

Her worry slowly unraveled as she had her perplexed son help with dinner. She took a break to care for the newest fussy member of their small family. She was willing to forbid Colin from going anywhere alone in order to keep him safe. No matter what she would make sure that nobody else in her family would suffer the same or similar fate to her eldest "son". The pain was still fresh on her mind, scraping her heart with its cruelty. Never again.

A/N I'm gonna leave that there for now. It was getting long and I am extremely tired. Sorry for the short appearance for the Resistance. I was gonna make this chapter longer, but its already super long. There will be more soon. I'm so exhausted, its been a long week. I hope you enjoyed this. Shoutout to all my awesome supporters plus those random awesome people from Germany. Have a good week, those of you who are having midterms as well I wish you the best of luck. Good night! 


	7. Ch 7 Brother, You Promised

A/N After finishing the last chapter I realized, plot holes everywhere. I almost considered deleting last chapter as well cause I fell into a rut of many paths. I couldn't decide which one to choose. Now that I have been rewriting Restless Spirits, I also realized that I love writing stuff like this. I've always loved writing wolf Link things so expect more of those. Shoutout to the guest that commented on the 16th: last chapter seemed Shakespearian because it was like 1 am when I rewrote the beginning and I was busy with some English homework before it. So, the genius of literature definitely contributed to how I wrote it, I kinda write like him in general to be honest though. Anyway, enjoy.

Dear Big Brother,  
You showed me a lot of things.  
I learned a lot I didn't know,  
But you forgot to teach me one last thing...  
How to let you go.

I never thought,  
I would see the day.  
When you wouldn't be there,  
to show me the way...

(Credit to the 2 authors I borrowed those from. I don't know who they are).

Chapter 7

Ever since he was wounded, Link had done more falling asleep and waking up than he thought possible in such a time period. Each moment had melded into the next, always sandwiched tightly between surfacing and going back under. He had become slightly accustomed to fading from reality, now he had assumed that he had faded for the last time. As expected, he was surprised to feel the familiar grogginess accompanied with waking up. Unless the pearly gates of the afterlife smelled like goats, Link was pretty sure he wasn't dead.

Just because he wasn't dead didn't mean he wasn't close though. Of course, he had been close to death for awhile by then, but he was pretty bad off. Wherever he was, he felt like fate had used him as a punching bag. All that he felt was left was an abused sack of weak bones and muscles, passed around from place to place, person to person. Ready to be carted off to the afterlife at any moment.

The whole passing him from person to person wasn't so far off. The unfortunate, fate abused, sickly hero was still struggling for consciousness when he heard voices. It wasn't just one voice, it was two. And they were loud. Far too loud. A subconscious whimper escaped his groggy mind. They needed to shut up. Unluckily for the battered wolf, his cry was not heard.

"No! You don't understand! You can't tell anyone! He's domesticated! Just listen-" the first voice was high, shrill even. Desperation and pleading laced it heavily.

"It bit you! You could have a disease! I don't care that it hardly broke the skin! It's dangerous! I can't keep it around the livestock, let alone people like you and me!" The second was deeper, exasperation fluttered through it uncertainly. Their confidence was wavering.

"I didn't lug a wolf on Epona's back all the way here for no reason! I think it could be helpful, just wait and see! Besides, it's almost dead anyway. If you don't want it here it may not last long so it doesn't matter!"

At the mention of Epona, Link's ears perked. The small action was simple and practically uncontrolled, but it didn't stop the muscles from tingling and aching softly. He didn't notice how fuzzy the sounds appeared to be before his head slowly cleared a bit. The voices and scents were so familiar. They were home scents.

A pause stretched out as the recipient of the angered outburst pondered. "Fine, it can stay here as long as it isn't causing problems." That was Fado, the voice deeper and accented.

A squeal emanated from the other source of noise. That was definitely Ilia. Happiness and dread filled the hero to the brim. He also felt guilt, out of all the days of his absence he had barely thought about the villagers at all. True he had been dying, but it was little excuse. He cared for the people, amd them for him. For once life shone a small sliver of luck. People he cared for were willing to watch over a... well. A monster. In that form, he felt he didn't deserve their care, even if he needed and wanted it.

Despite being semi conscious, Link could feel everything that was wrong. His wounds itched and ached furiously and his blood felt too hot for his body. He still felt feverish and sick, worse off than he had been at Coro's. He was faintly aware of Ilia speaking again.

"No matter what, you can't tell my Father. I don't care what happens, he can't find out abou-"

The greedy hands of sickened sleep pulled Link back down. Consciousness left him, cutting off his senses from the world of the living. He was safe again.

When the blue-eyed beast finally breached consciousness again, he felt sore. Not from his wounds, but across his body, as though he had been sleeping in one place for far too long. A tired yawn was drawn forth as he attempted to stretch. His wounds ached less and itched more. At least they didn't ache that much.

Warm blood still coursed through his body, not quite down to normal temperature. With a huff he took his moment of being awake as a chance to gather information. Yes, he was in the goat barn as he had expected. Yes, he was in pain, sick, and still in danger of death. No, he was not able to move much. Yes, he was frustrated with his situation.

Now, Link is typically known for his cool head and self sacrificing (sometimes seemingly suicidal) tendencies, but at that moment he felt he had a right to complain. So, in his mind he let a small, frustrated, pent up storm rage. He was sick of being sick, sure it was nice being a wolf again, but the situation still sucked. He resolved to immediately find a way to fix the problem as soon as he could get up without several thousand nerves screaming their discomfort.

He reigned in his emotions as he lay on the straw covered foor of the barn. The large pile of it that he had been sleeping on was a poor excuse for a bed. The new bandages seemed bright white against the dimness of the building. He was being well taken care of there, yet he still yearned to leave. He needed to fix his situation so he could go home peacefully. For once, he yearned to be with his technical family more than freedom.

With barely a blink of an eye his mood shifted. In that form, he was without a family. A monster to be cut down without a thought. The one he had considered a great mentor and practically a father had attacked him before, after he had been transformed for the first time. Link didn't doubt that Rusl would do it again, the man was fiercely protective of the people he cared for.

His emotions stewed for quite some time. The drowsiness had long since abandoned him, he could no longer sleep. The only thing that broke the string of his thoughts was the creaking of the barn door. With a start, Link bristled instinctively, it made him look bigger, even in his sick and weakened state.

As the door finally opened completely, he barely put his bristles down. It was Ilia, she had an armful of supplies, Fado trailed closely behind her. The hero was actually pretty well hidden from the entrance to the barn, likely to prevent people from walking in and seeing a wolf laying near the livestock. Once the pair of humans reached the wolf, they seemed quite surprised that he was awake. Well, Ilia looked pleasantly surprised while Fado looked surprised and frightened at the sight of the slightly bristling beast.

Link honestly didn't mean to keep bristling. It just happened instinctively. As Ilia set the supplies down, he could only guess his instincts were piping up because of how cornered he was. With 2 people crowding him in a corner while he was wounded was cause enough for them to activate. So, naturally, he was hesitant to let the girl anywhere near his wounds. His heart throbbed with unwanted wariness.

The gentle hands of the young woman reached out to him tentatively. Around her left hand a white bandage was wrapped snuggly. Guilt pulled at the hero's conscience, so that's who he bit. He drooped his head in shame, he would never consciously hurt someone like that. Especially someone he grew up with.

Taking the head dipping as a form of submission, Ilia began to work. With the gentleness of a healer she unwrapped the bandages on the wolf. The wounds looked ugly. The one on his side was still draining some fluid, yet it didn't look quite as red or inflamed as it did at Coro's. His back leg looked bad, it was surrounded in brusing barely visible beneath his thick fur. The jagged lines created by the trap looked more purple than a healthy pink, it burned and itched almost as much as his side did. The puncture wounds on his front leg were healing surprisingly well compared to the other wounds. Only a handful of the dot like wounds were an angry red, despite the setbacks they were probably the only ones that would heal nicely.

The bandages reeked intensely to Link's sensitive nose. A sneeze snuck its way up his nostrils, causing him to sneeze several times as Ilia washed the irritated tissues of his wounds. It hurt yes, but it felt good to feel slightly cleaner.

Fado handed the girl supplies as he eyed the wolf suspiciously. She had said that they could train the beast to help with herding, but he had his doubts. It had a chain on its leg for crying out loud! That probably meant it was chained up for a good reason. It had bitten Ilia too! Of course her wound didn't look serious, but the herdsman had a right to worry. (Just because it had healed quickly didn't mean anything, she still could've caught a disease, he reasoned).

It took hardly any time at all for her to finish wrapping the wolf's wounds. Honestly, both Ordonians had been quite surprised that it had survived. It had slept for days on end. Almost 4 full days actually. The canine had only been able to barely consume water between short lapses of deep sleep and semi-consciousness. It gave Ilia a bit of hope for her plan and gave her pride in her developing healing skills. The Shaman had taught her well.

Ilia stepped back to admire her handy work on the weak beast, as she looked at it an idea struck her.

"Fado, do you think you can go grab one of Link's extra potions? Please? He's still out adventuring somewhere so I'm pretty sure he won't be needing it anytime soon"

[Irony is great]

The other Ordonian looked like he was about to protest, but then stopped. There really was no way of going against her, the past couple days had reinforced that idea. Begrudgingly he trudged out of the barn and towards the main village.

Link's ears perked up at the sound of his name. Sleep had been calling back to him, even being conscious was starting to exhaust him. As the other man left, Ilia pulled out some strips of meat, a bowl, and a bottle of water. All of which she placed in front of him. They lasted a grand total of maybe 10 seconds before eveything in front of him disappeared (besides the bowl of course). Whatever disappeared was quickly replenished by the amused girl. The animal was obviously quite hungry, it didn't hesitate in consuming any of it.

Exhaustion was quickly setting in again as the minutes ticked on. The only thing to rowse him from his bleary thoughts was the half a bottle of red liquid being poured into the bowl next to him. Both Ordonians expected the wolf to dislike the taste of it, but to their surprise it last as long as the food and water did.

Upon consumption, Link waited for 5 minutes for it to take full effect. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The rush to his head left him dizzy as the infection cleared out within a minute. The wounds on his front leg stitched together and the swelling went down. The itchiness of his other wounds disappeared, they healed enough to avoid anymore infection, but the little bit of potion could only go so far.

The rush dissipated and his body stopped tingling slightly as he stood. Where days before, standing would have been quite the feat, all four paws stood firmly on the ground. Only a slight tremble radiated gently from his back leg. His sudden movement startled both of the humans.

Link stood there for a moment, took a deep breath, then promptly ran. He ran straight between the legs of 2 people he cared for and then pushed through the small gap of the door that Fado had unintentionally left open. He heard Ilia shout after him. It wasn't that he didn't like them or wasn't grateful for their assistance, but he wanted to be able to walk on 2 legs again.

So of course he ran through the thick snow, right out of the rickety gates of the ranch. All the way down the path to the village he bolted behind the closest building, trying hard to avoid being seen. He was a gray-green blur against the bright contrast of the snow. It was early in the morning, luckily no one was out it appeared, making it easier on him. He ran right past his house, past a confused Epona huddling under the shelter he had built for her. He leaped over stones and past Ordon's Spring.

The sharp clacking of his nails ricocheted over the ravine as he slowed and loped across the bridge. The cold air turned his breath cloudy white, disappearing against the shimmering landscape. Oh Din, he was free. Finally free. His remaining wounds were almost forgotten as adrenaline pumped to the pounding drum of his heart.

Upon getting to the other side he ran again, his muscles pumping in time to the rhythm his heart beat wildly. Freedom. It was exhilarating. He kept going until he no longer could. His tongue lolled from his mouth as he rested by Faron's Spring. The last time he had been there he had been so sure of his demise. How foolish those thoughts seemed when he was obviously so... /alive/. Behind a tree by the spring he dug a small hole to lay in, making sure the snow was away from him. He finally had a chance to fix it all, a chance to go back home. Finally, he was content. Finally, he was free.

Unbeknownst to the exhilarated wolf, someone had been awake that morning. The shocked blonde boy had watched the wolf run from the ranch all the way down the path to the hero's house before disappearing comoletely. The young boy had been quite surprised, and to his shame, scared.

Colin had been up early thinking about why in all of Hyrule, the Resistance was staying at Mayor Bo's home. Each theory had led to his brother in all but blood. Worry worked its way into his weary mind. He couldn't sleep that night because of it. With the luck of a dozen men he had borne witness to the beast going through his village.

As any responsible boy would do, he naturally woke his father up to tell him about it.

The swordsman was quite reluctant to wake up, having finally drifted into a deep dreamless sleep for the first time in days and days. The urgency in his son's voice was what quickly roused him. With sunken, worried eyes he tiredly inquired about what was wrong.

The response he recieved was hurried and choppy, but he caught the gist of it. "Colin, are you saying there was a wolf in the village?" He asked, concern and rage burned brightly in his eyes. The image of crimson dyed leaves and fallen weapons had imprinted themselves behind the once bright irises of the man.

With a curt nod, Colin confirmed what his father was asking. With a start the boy remembered something he had been meaning to ask Rusl anyway.

The man was up and about as soon as the short conversation had ended, determination forming a hard, chiseled replica of his face. His son stood by, looking shy for the first time in ages. Rusl paused, looking over to his son.

"Is something wrong?" Concern etched deeply into the older man's voice.

The young boy paused, looking at his feet. "Um... maybe. I've just been wondering... why is the Resistance here? If theyre here then shouldn't Link be with you guys? He is one of you... right?"

Rusl froze, the fury about the wolf dampened by the rain of sorrow that quickly bubbled up inside him. He knew this would happen eventually, but... he had hoped his son wasn't so clever for once. With a deep sigh, he breathed out some of his pain. He knew Colin would suspect something... it was best to tell him then.

"Walk with me son... put on something warm." With that said, Rusl headed outside, his son close behind him.

The walk to Ordon Spring was never so significant that day. Each step continued to follow Colin's peaking curiosity. The crunch of the snow became ingrained in the boys head that day. Evey little thing that led up to that moment stayed with him for ages on end. Every rustle of a tree branch, every winter bird that sang a song. Everything.

At Ordon Spring, his world came to a screeching halt as his father told him an impossible concept. He never knew that he was capable of such anger of denial. Likewise Rusl never knew his son was capable of screaming in such powerful rage. The boy yelled and sobbed. Denying to the heavens themselves that it couldn't be true, because Link dying wasn't a possibility. He had never imagined a day where the hero wouldn't come home. He roared til his voice was hoarse and his tears blinded him. He numbness he felt blocked him off from his father's shaking embrace. Still, he spoke in a rage of denial, his voice dwindling. Over and over he spoke of the imoossibility of it all. For Link always promised to come home... and he never broke those promises...

A/N Sorry again for the lack of the Resistance. I really got into this whole thing so I kinda forgot to leave room for them. 


	8. Ch 8 Draining Hope

A/N It's spring break where I live and I've been busy. Since it's two weeks instead of one I thought I'd have a lot more time to write. Lol, nope. I have been visiting family this week and I'm getting my wisdom teeth out on Monday. I'm gonna be rather dead next week so if I update it'lll probably be rather messed up cause drugs.

Chapter 8

[About 4 days before the events chapter 7]

The Resistance had often talked of visiting Ordon, on multiple occasions actually. None of them had quite imagined the circumstances that brought them together that day. The normally welcome atmosphere of Rusl's home was tarnished with the heavy news. Unusual silence stretched taut over them, faces drawn low with dwindling shock and denial. Auru had recovered faster than the younger members, his age making it easier to handle. The lack of such emotional experience made it difficult to process.

The silence was shredded as Rusl pulled out the tattered bag that belonged to the hero. Ashei's eyes glistened slightly at the sight of the rust coloured splatters contrasting against the brown leather. Shad averted his eyes, it felt wrong to think that the blood was their newest member's. Link was the youngest of them, bravest too. It wasn't... right to think that he was...

"Thank you again, all of you... I'm sorry for dragging you out here. There is still some hope, according to Bo. I'm not so sure myself, but I'm sure all of you would gladly join me in searching for Li-..." his voice cut off, Rusl had been avoiding saying his name. Guilt was more of the culprit than sorrow by that time.

Ashei nodded quietly, "Yeah, we can at least find what's...yknow... what's left."

Paling significantly, Shad kept facing the wall, studying the nonexistent designs within the wood. Without a word Auru took the pouch from Rusl, turning it over before reaching in. The heavier weapons had stayed in the bag, remaining untouched by the hero's blood.

The light weapons were removed one by one, Auru examined each item. They had remained uncleaned, nearly forgotten by Rusl. Dried blood cracked underneath the older man's fingers, behind him Ashei shuddered slightly. The string of Links precious bow twanged gently as it was removed from the small opening, dark dust drifted off. A sliver of grey sunshine passed though the settling particles, turning it into a deep maroon before it hit the floorboards. With a gentle hand Ashei took it from her elder, putting it back into the pouch along with the other weapons. It had become too much for all of them.

"Tell us what happened again, it may help us in our search..." the gravelly undertone of Auru's voice gave a hint to his hidden sadness. It added to the offness of it all, nothing seemed right anymore.

By the time they finally finished conversing within Rusl's home, the sun was lower. It wouldn't be long before the sky turned orange with the fading radiance of the cloudy day. The others had already left, Bo was more than willing to share his large house with them. Their plan was to search all day, starting the following morning. If it turned out to be fruitless, they would search again and again for the next couple days.

Within minutes of the group's departure to Bo's house, Colin had returned home with his mother and sister. Rusl remained at their tiny table as they walked in. He had sent them to visit with some of the other villagers. Uli had spent her time with Sera, talking idly about nothing important whilst caring for her daughter. Her son on the other hand, played in the snow with Talo and Beth, finally able to get along with their new social skills.

Colin chattered excitedly about his experience, his mother trying her best to follow what he was saying. Besides, her heart definitely wasn't into such prattling, it was still heavy with the sloshing weight of sorrow. With a sigh at the noise, the man of the house put his head down into his hands. The sense of loss and guilt smothered him endlessly, he wouldn't have the willpower to hide the truth from his son for much longer. It would be a miracle if he lasted another day.

Sleep came quickly around the village, only a select few remained awake and fewer arose at an early hour. The Resistance (minus one) set out early the next morning. It felt like hardly any time, yet incredibly long. A fierce determination had carved its way into their hearts. Despite Shad being uncomfortable and Auru's bones aching in the cold, they kept going. That is, until Rusl realized something important.

If the trail Link took hadn't been a game trail, they would have had an easier job of finding it. Because it was a game trail, the snow had covered it completely. Rusl had to rely on guesswork. Before long he already felt the last bit of hope trickle out of his heart to land among his toes. He thought he had already lost it all, he had been wrong.

Despite the frigid temperatures, biting breezes, and powdery snow Ashei pushed forward. Out of all of them she had the most hope. She knew that the hero had made it through the harsh tundras of the mountains. He sported several scars from that journey. If he survived the initial attack, he would be able to survive the cold wilderness. With fierce determination she plowed forward, poking a staff in front of her to trigger any leftover traps. Rusl had brought most of them on his trip back the first night luckily.

Auru and Shad quickly fell behind in the snow. The older man's joints ached and contracted in the low temperatures. Being a scholar made it rare for Shad to have the need to trek through snowy forests. His lack of experience made it easy for him to trip up on some unseen branch or slip on an icy limb.

In all honesty, none of them had known Link that well, but they didn't hesitate to come when Rusl's letter briefly mentioned him. The urgency brought them along that much faster. While they did not know him well or for an exceptionally long time, he was a wonderful young man. Incredibly brave, humble, and kind. It took little time at all for them to consider him almost like a little brother. A powerful comrade in battle, yet a gentle soul in person. Hearing about his apparent demise was undoubtedly a shock.

Traversing the glistening landscape got no easier for the haggard group. Rusl had been unable to relocate the area that he had found the hero's equipment. Turning back began to feel like the better option by then.

The gray sky drifted apart to reveal a smoky blue beneath, no snow wafted down yet the winds blew harder. The soft flakes in the trees dislodged themselves from the boughs, the quick wind whipping it into the continually disheartened Resistance. With impaired vision due to the falling snow they struggled onward. Ashei remained at the front, still persistant despite her growing doubts.

The dark wolf would have gone unnoticed if Rusl had not spotted it through the flurry. The beast itself did not sense them, its pointed head faced away from them. Its ears and nose were lifted toward where it was looking.

A great shout burst forth from the swordsman, he raced towards it, already pulling out his sword. With a start the animal ran off, not even hesitating in fleeing from him. The others called out to him faintly as he continued to pursue the fleeing canine. Unable to catch up to it in time it disappeared into a dark hole nearby. Examining it in his frustration he found that he recognized it despite the snow surrounding the den.

By the time the others had caught up with him he had begun pacing around the opening.

"This is the den I mentioned, but I still cannot fit. There's a /monster/ in there as well. What's left of Link may be down there too." The malice and frustration dripped from his voice like venom. If his boy was in there then he would find out.

His companions were stunned at the utter hatred and malice that the typically kind man was exuding. The very same man that could hold a baby with pure gentleness and love could turn into such a furious prowling beast, practically spraying the venom of malice from its fangs. It was intimidating, incredibly so. Ashei was the first one to move from her spot to investigate the den.

Each weapon the members had was quickly drawn as a black snout stuck out of the den curiously. Immediately after spotting it, Rusl wasted no time in sticking his sword through the small opening, piercing the beast in the chest. The yelp was loud and sharp, its sound retreated into the den, following the animal itself. Silence swooped down on them as the wolf's heart stopped its frenzied attempt to stay alive.

Reaching into the den carefully, Rusl tried to find something besides stone and dirt. It was too deep, likely a cave formed by a sinkhole. He couldn't reach back to where the vicious, but dead, animal would be. It was too deep to see if there were other remains in there.

A fire began to smolder in the father's heart. If there was anything left of Link, he was becoming more determined to find them. Cuts lanced up his hands as he began furiously digging the snow and sharp rocks away from the entrance, shredding his thin gloves. Too soon he hit the hard stone of the lower part of the cave. It was still too small for the broad man. With a wave he gestured for Ashei to come closer.

"Ashei, can you fit down there?" His voice shook with many emotions weighing it down.

Shaking her head she stepped back, she didn't even want to try. She knew she would get stuck despite her lithe form. Only the hero was known to slip through small places easily, she on the other hand was broad in... different places than the other.

Disheartened, Rusl stepped back as well. "We should keep searching, just in case. In the meantime, let's rest back at the village..."

The next couple of days went similarly, any hope left disappeared shortly. No signs of the hero remained, their worst fears for him all but confirmed completely. The only break in their schedule was the revelation of the tragedy to Colin. That's when Rusl knew they would have to tell the rest of the village soon. First, he would hunt down the intruding wolf. After that the truth would have to be revealed...


	9. Ch 9 Taste of Vengeance

A/N Hello, sorry for taking so long. Turns out the recovery process wasn't /too/ bad for my mouth. I could've been writing, but BotW kinda took over my life (plus the meds give me major mood swings for some reason so yeah). Anyway, now that I'm back I might as well announce a few things.

IMPORTANT: I know I personally don't read author's notes much, but you should probably read some of the next ones.

WARNING: SUPER LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE AHEAD

(ART) First things first: I was gonna change the cover to this fic to something I made, but sadly it doesn't wanna cooperate so if you want to look at it you can go to instagram. My ig is nishiki_nishio_snek (it's my rundown TG fan account that I use). If I can get tumblr to work I'll make one (since I don't use tumblr) and put it on there.

(FIC IDEA ANNOUNCMENT) Secondly, I've got some fic ideas and another old one I might fix up if any of you are interested. Since I can't work on all of them at once without killing myself I'll list a few and have a lil vote. (Idk how to work polls so just review what you want).

(VERY IMPORTANT) Finally, I'm still unsure about how long this fic is gonna be. It's in the air at the moment, I can extend it to maybe even 20 chapters. Currently I was thinking 12 or maybe even 15 at max. Of course, it isn't up to me really. It's up to you guys, what do you want? More? Less? Cut it before it seems to run on too long? Drag it into a 14 story adaptation? I need some input. Anything you guys want to see? Zelda? Telma? Agitha even (lol probably not, though she is great)? If you want it to be longer, leave a review and something you want to see. How long do you want it to be? (VERY IMPORTANT)

(FIC IDEA LIST)  
Quick list plus summaries for possible future LoZ fics:  
(All names are temporary unless no better ones can be found. If you're interested in them then please PLEASE tell me which ones! Thanks! Have a great day!)

Captivity: (post TP) Link is abruptly stolen away from his homeland. All he knows is that Queen Zelda and her Royal Court may be involved. That and a very hefty price has been placed over his head. (1 to maybe 10 chapters)

Life on the Run: (post OoT and MM or possible AU) "Your age?" "18." "Don't lie, boy." "...15." "Name?" "...Link..." "Well Link, looks like you've gone and created all kinds of hell for yourself and others. Horse theft, burglary, armed robbery... murder? For horse theft alone you're fit to be hung. A young teen like yourself shouldn't be a criminal of any sort, let alone a highwayman." (1 to 5 or more)

Melancholy: (no particular time in BotW, no spoilers belive it or not) On the road it often wrapped around him. The sudden feeling of sadness, nothing at all to comfort the wandering hero. Not even a happy memory, for he had none. It became easy to just wish to slip off his horse, his only companion, onto the worn path. Just to quit, to stop it all. Yet... a purpose... it surfaced more as he retrieved his memories. Zelda... (one shot)

Darker Days: (pre TP. Not related to this fic unless decided otherwise.) Rusl had found the ragged Hylian boy just outside the Faron Woods. While scruffy, skittish, and exhausted, little 5 year old Link had wormed his way into his and Uli's hearts. It appeared that he was just a lost orphan, in reality there was far more to his past. It was no wonder why he was as quiet as a mouse (Trigger warning: Trafficking. 1 to 5 or more chapters).

(Again, I apologize for taking so long. Writer's block struck a bit too. Just remember, to remedy it, all you gotta do is start and it'll grow inch by inch to meter by meter, or all at once. The story that is, not the block.)

Now to the actual chapter, sorry for the super long note. I just want to make sure you guys are all informed! Enjoy! (I know its super short, next chapter will be longer, I'm just super exhausted right now. 1 am again)

Chapter 9

Colin's shattered reality blurred as his anger dwindled with his voice. The remnants of his fury continued to stream down his face, unnoticed by himself. Bright white snow blinded him despite the dullness created by him tears. The distorted blobs of colour shifted as he was raised up suddenly.

In his sorrowful delirium, he had forgotten his father was there holding him. His world continued to move as he was carried into the village, an observation barely made as he wallowed in his pain. The stark white blurs turned to calmer hues as he was taken into his home. Familiar scents of spices and pumpkin only brought more tears to his eyes. Colin shook with heaving sobs. He clenched his fists to his chest, trying and failing to grasp onto his escaping denial. He was scarcely aware of being placed amongst warm material.

Distantly he heard his parents exchange words, followed by the gentle click of the door. The suffering boy curled into himself, muffling his sobs amongst the sea of fabric. Gently, a hand combed through his blonde hair. Occasionally it would stray to his back to rub it in small, firm circles. The shushing of his mother's voice didn't succeed in breaking through to him. He was grieving. There is no true cure for such an injury to one's heart.

Too soon his mother left him be, his little sister had awoken and burst into tears as well. Colin was left to lay in his agony upon his bed. He struggled in vain to procure a clear image of Link. The last time he had seen him... Why couldn't he remember it clearly? His own big brother... he couldn't even remember how he looked on that day. Hiccups interrupted his sobs, his breath came too short. Forcing himself to breathe he tried to calm down at least a little bit. He had to be stronger...

Colin continued to struggle in his attempts to calm down. The hiccups were not going away despite the fact his sobs were stopping. Tears still stubbornly blinded him and his nose continued to run slightly. Blindly, he searched his pockets for his kerchief. Upon finding it he wiped away his tears and blew his nose. Hiccups still shocked his lungs every other breath. Each inhale shuddered inward. He was forcing himself to be strong, but success in that manner was being fickle. [Yes, I applied that word right.]

Sitting up was easier than he thought. The tears still denied his internal pleas for them to stop. He swiped his hands over his eyes then looked to his mother.

"Did you know as well?" His own voice startled him, it sounded like gravel underneath Epona's hooves.

Uli nodded solemnly in response before going back to rocking her fussy babe.

"Wh- why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Sweetheart, we had to make sure that he really was gone. Now that we know he is..." she inhaled with a shudder, "Everyone else will know soon. Your Father and Mayor Bo didn't want to cause unnecessary suffering or panic."

Uli's explanation did nothing to snuff out the extra hurt that was building up. According to Rusl, it had been many days since he had discovered the scene. All the while Colin had been foolishly waiting for the hero's return. Every morning he could, he had gone to his big brother's house. With a heart full of hope he would knock on the door, praying that Link had returned the night before. Sure he had suspected that something was up, but never would he be capable of imagining the truth.

Laying back down, he stopped fighting the tears. If his waterworks wanted to run so badly, let them run. He'd live through the pain. He just wished that he didn't have to live without his best friend, his idol, his second mentor, his brother in all but blood. It hurt so much. It hurt, but he would prove to himself that he was strong. If he were lucky, maybe he could prove his strength to Link's spirit. To make him proud in the afterlife. He could do that much for his brother. He could be strong for his mother and his sister. He could be strong for his father, whom he had assumed to be immovable until recently. He could and would be tough. Colin was willing, but at that moment he let himself be weak. For to be weak then, meant he could be stronger later.

Rusl had left his grieving boy despite wanting to stay. His heart still played the tune of loss and fire across its strings. Snow crunched beneath his boots, the sound had become increasingly familiar to him over the past several days. The seemingly endless treks through the forest had left an imprint on his heart. Loss of hope became quickly associated with the sound. The entirety of the Resistance was ready for spring.

The sun was not even close to nearing midday, the wiser villagers would remain inside until then. Only Rusl appeared to be out. He was wrong again. The crack of an axe cleaving its way through a log lanced through the otherwise silent village. Looking toward the source, he saw Bo awkwardly chopping his much needed firewood. The swordsman immediately made a beeline towards him.

"Bo, can you do me a favour?" He inquired upon arrival.

Startled, the mayor leaned his axe against a log. "If you promise not to scare me like that again, then sure."

"Thanks, please tell the Resistance that a wolf passed through the village this morning." He brushed off Bo's attempted levity, "After I leave though. They've done enough for us this week, they deserve to sleep in. When I get back, we will tell the village about what happened."

The larger man's eyebrows shot up, "A wolf?! Where did it come from?"

"Colin said it came from the direction of the ranch. I'm afraid it might have gone after some livestock." Bo nodded in agreement as Rusl continued, If you have time today then you can ask Fado to keep an extra close eye on the goats. We really need them this winter."

"No kidding. I'll make sure everything goes well, no worries Rusl. I am the mayor after all. Good luck with that hunt, stay safe." He ended with a pat to the man's shoulder. Rusl had been through far too much lately, but Bo would be damned if he tried to stop him from going after that wolf.

"Thanks again Bo, you're a good friend." He offered him a half smile which almost immediately retreated, "I had to tell Colin this morning. He was figuring it out anyway."

"That's alright Rusl. He's a bright boy. You just stay safe, I'll see you later."

Gratitude shone on the other man's face as Bo went back to chopping. Without another word he headed off away from the village. His sword and shield were secured tightly onto his figure, a plain bow and a quiver full of arrows completed his setup. His clothes were warm and dry, protecting him from the biting cold and wet snow.

Upon leaving the main village, his eyes flashed at the sight of Link's house. The fire of malice brightly reflected against the sorrowful glisten in his eyes. He was ready. The week had left him drained and haggard, but when there is a fire for vengeance there is energy.

Tracking an animal in the snow is easy when the snow is fresh. Luckily for Rusl, there was a new layer on the ground, making the tracks very obvious. The fire was lit, determination set. He took off down the path, the silver sun still brushed the treetops. He had all day to find his prey and he would succeed. It was almost too easy.

A thrill set in his heart as he saw the tracks become fresher and that the beast had followed the main path. It had even crossed the bridge which animals typically dislike. The tracks at Faron's Spring were the freshest so far. A winter bird sang in the boughs above him as he crouched low. The snow crunched softly as he moved gingerly forward. With a soft twang he removed the bow from his shoulders. From just around a tree he could see the green-gray fur of its tail.

Heart pounding and hands sweating in his gloves, Rusl pulled an arrow out. He winced as it clacked against the others. The tail twitched, moving out of his sight. Delicately, he placed the arrow on the string, moving his feet as quietly as possible to get a better view. He couldn't see it well, but even one shot could prove fatal. It wouldn't get far wounded.

A soft curse escaped as the loud crack of a twig underneath his foot caused a series of events to occur. The wolf had definitely heard him, thehe soft snout poked around the side of the tree in his direction. In his jumpiness, he fired at it too soon, missing his mark by a mile. With a startled yiff, it immediately took off away from him and the direction of the village. Rusl pulled another arrow out as fast as he could, firing at the fleeing animal.

The man was rewarded with a short yelp, but unfortunately the arrow hit the ground, much like the previous. He had only grazed the beast. He cursed again. He would have to track it down foe a second time. There was no way Rusl would be able to catch it just by running after it. Four legs tend to move faster than two. Retrieving his arrows, he continued to pursue the monster. Determination on his mind more than ever.

Despite his failed attempts to shoot it, at least tracking it would be much easier. The startlingly bright crimson against the fresh white snow made the whole process simpler. The trail of little droplets led Rusl towards Coro's house. It continued on towards the woods, where he had expected it to live. It kept going. The drops dwindled as he got closer to the large tree-temple.

Excitement and anxiety made their rounds up and down the swordsman's spine. The utter thrill of the hunt put the grief to the back of his mind. He let revenge take the reins as he noticed the trail turn right. It looked like it was trying to hide behind the slanted hill that Link had leapt off of with Rusl's golden cucco. That had been so long ago. The young man had gone where the Temple of Time rested in ruins and the Master Sword remained patiently in its pedestal.

The fury quickly rekindled itself at the thought of his lost boy. He pulled another arrow from his quiver, years of hunting showed as his steps were nearly inaudible despite the snow. He rested the arrow against its string. With a quick step he moved so that he could fully see his frightened prey. With a swift, single motion he drew the arrow back and took his aim. He aimed right at the eye, years of experience bleeding through every aspect of his rigid posture and taut muscles. For Link.

Vengeance isn't always sweet.


	10. Ch 10 Fading Beauty

A/N WARNING: ANOTHER SUPER LONG AUTHOR'S NOTE.

I've been pretty busy lately so sorry again for the semi-late update. I've also been procrastinating, oopsy. I had several projects I've been working on this week and a midrerm plus a quiz. Lots of work. Anyway, I recently learned more about Syntax in English. I try to have good sentence srructure, but now I have a much broader understanding. If you notice a change in my style that's probably me practicing it. Syntax (for those of you who don't know) is sentence structure, such as the pace at which you read something. For example: A long sentence with few commas is read fast so you would use it to describe a horse race or something. Stuff like that. I wish I knew more about that. I would've used a run on sentence for Link's freedom sprint earlier on. Okay, enough chit chat, here are the stats:

Important Roles: Zelda 1, Midna 1.

Darker Days: 3 1/2

Captivity: 3

Life on the Run: 1

All: 1/2

Length: More than 10 Chapters, less than 20.

If you chose more than one I put the second choice as 1/2.

The Guest that chose all: I put Darker Days as the full and All as the half since you suggested I start with that one. It's alright that you double reviewed too, I used to do it all the time when I was a guest (by accident and on purpose). Also, would you mind using a "name" or something I can identify you by? If another guest appears without a name I don't want to get you guys confused or have to disregard your votes if I have another poll again. If I can't tell you apart then I can't be sure if you voted twice. Does that make sense? I hope it does lol. I just wanna make sure you're not forgotten or disregarded is all. 3

Looks like Darker Days won! I'll be doing them in order from most voted to the ones that didn't even make it into the votes. A follower messaged me privately so that's why there seems to be an extra vote and the mention of Midna possibly playing an important role. I'm not going to be actually adding her into the story, but I can add her as a motivation factor or something along those lines.

The first chapter of Darker Days will hopefully be up soon. I'm really excited to write it! It was inspired by the tragic story of a young boy that was kidnapped in India. He couldn't speak any English and his captors told him that if he told the orphanage and other people that he had a family, they would beat him. He was a sad and angry child, he was furious when some Americans came and adopted him because he thought they were buying him and that they knew he wasn't an orphan. He eventually suppressed the memories of his family and what happened after a while. One day he returned once he got his memories back, he found what was left of his family and town. It's a true story, I don't know what the title of the documentary was called, sadly. It won't be exactly like that though. It's actually going to be quite different, it's just inspired by the story.

Moving on, I hope you guys like this chapter. I was gonna hopefully finish it Friday night or Saturday at 1 AM, but I started at 11 PM and I got super duper tired at 1 so I'm posting it now instead. The same thing kinda happened on Saturday night as well so its Sunday morning that I'm posting this. more suspense! Your questions will be answered! Are they the answers you want? Yes? No? Enjoy! (Also if you notice a lot of pretentious seeming words that's me practicing my vocab from my Honors English class. I really need to since my final is gonna have a collection of the words from the year)

Chapter 10

Blue. Pristine blue. His arrow quivered on the string. Those eyes were beautiful. The typical ominous amber of a wolf's eye were replaced by startling sapphires. His arm ached with his heart, pause lengthening. Familiar, but not so. Gentle wild, fearful courage, somehow all at once in them. Rusl blinked, the beast ran. Its paws flew wildly, flinging up piles of snow as it sprinted away from the woods towards Hyrule Field, its mouth open wide it disappeared from his sight, nothing but extirpated snow left in its wake. [Syntax]

With a clack his arrow hit a rock uselessly, not even close to the direction the wolf had disappeared in. The eyes of the beast never caught his attention until he had aimed to kill it. One shot. Right through the eye and into the brain. Relatively painless, of course. That was the only mercy he would extend to those vile creatures. Nevertheless, Rusl remained stunned, bow lowered and his jaw slightly slack. Guilt trembled through him briefly, he had wanted to kill such a beautiful creature. Immediately after the guilt appeared, it was swallowed by the fire of a father's fury deep within his heart. He had remembered seeing that same wolf the day he had gone looking for Link. Blue or deep yellow, the eye was the best way to get through the skull, the most fatal, and he was going to kill anything that threatened his family again. It made a mistake coming into his village and that truculent monster would pay.

In one fluid motion he slung his bow back over his shoulder with care. The wayward arrow was placed amongst the others just as carefully. It looked like he would be out longer than he thought, it would be best to return and pack accordingly. He followed the path home, not yet defeated but with thoughts trailing him and his mind.

For many years his predecessors had believed that looking into a wolf's eye would temporarily paralyze or hypnotize them, allowing the canine a chance to attack [actual historical belief]. Decades of defending flocks of goats and hunting deep within the woods proved the belief to be false. Yet some believed the beauty and fear of the wolf stilled your limbs, while others continued to believe the old tales. Either way, they all discovered that with their own will they could easily dispatch the creature. For a second Rusl believed that he might have fallen victim to the "paralyzing beauty and fear" or whatever his Grandmother had spoken of all those years back. He had snapped out of that thought quickly, it was just his accumulated exhaustion causing his mind to wander instead of shooting his prey.

Upon his return he studied the snow covered village. Talo and Beth played near the nearly frozen creek, the mill and running water being the only things preventing it from freezing over. Ilia sat on a fence near the children, watching them and gently stroking the soft head of Talo's young dog. Everything was so normal... so peaceful... and Rusl was going to ruin it. He and Bo had to tell the village that day. The hunt would have to wait. Uli could pack for him while he and the mayor held the meeting.

Increasingly familiar dread shook his bones and muscles with its intense weight. Mindlessly, his feet led him to Mayor Bo's home. The thud of his fist on the wood vibrated and echoed in his mind. He was not looking forward to it. Not at all. A click and a creak later saw him standing in the house. The larger man welcomed him with as much warmth as he could muster. But he knew it too. He knew what they had to do. And neither of them wanted to do it. [Starting sentences with a conjunction is also syntax, another lil lesson for you guys lol]

"I'll go gather the adults Rusl, you go see your family and rest a bit." Bo murmured. His tone was sluggish and as heavy as the swordsman felt.

The smaller man nodded, he would tell the mayor how the hunt went later. The sooner they got the meeting over with, the better. His mind wandered, but his feet didn't. They knew where to go. They never failed to take him back to his home, even in his weariest of days. Creak and click, he was already inside.

Colin lay where he had placed him, now fast asleep with tear tracts still drying on his cheeks. Sadness and guilt washed over the man, his poor boys. Both of them had to suffer, at least one of them was with him. Uli looked rather distraught as well. She was busy stirring a pot of stew, preparing it for dinner. His precious wife didn't even notice him enter.

With all the tenderness he could muster he wrapped his arms around her midriff, startling her slightly.

"Welcome home, honey." She said with a slight edge. It was laced with annoyance at being startled in her vulnerable state.

"Sorry dear." Rusl responded genuinely, letting go of his wife and sitting in a chair nearby.

Uli harumphed, continuing her duty of making dinner. "Did you kill the wolf? We could make use of its pelt this winter. I have a feeling its going to be much colder than we thought this year."

"I did not, sadly." He explained with a sigh, "Bo and I are holding The meeting, afterward I'll be tracking it down again. I won't have time to pack before The meeting, can you...?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before nodding. She knew she couldn't stop him from going so she might as well make sure he had what he needed.

"Thank you, my love. If you need anything while I'm gone just ask Bo. The Resistance will be staying here so they should help as well."

Despite the slight reassurances her husband offered her, it gave Uli little solace. Anxiety trimmed away any relaxation in her mind whenever Rusl or Colin left the house. It kept growing worse. Day. By. Day. She knew why, but that did nothing to help solve her problem. She just couldn't bear to lose another. Her daughter needed her father and Uli didn't dare think about her growing up without knowing her sibling by blood. She wouldn't be able to handle losing anyone else. Never again. Never again.

Rusl felt that he had only been sitting for less than a minute when there was a knock on the door. The blonde boy on the bed shifted slightly, but slept on. Sore feet protested their abuse when the swordsman stood and opened the door. Fado stood in the doorway.

"Mayor Bo said to come get you, Rusl. We're meeting at his house, I'm not sure why, but he said it was urgent."

With a curt nod he followed the herdsman with a blank expression. Oh Goddesses, he was not ready. It was different with telling only a couple people at max, all the adults in the village was a whole other story.

Mouth dry, palms clammy, eyes swiveling. Rusl stood in front of the small gathering in Bo's warm home. The man of the house stood behind him, quiet. At first glance it seemed like a lot of people, especially since Ilia had recently become officially an adult. That and the Resistance sat in the very back, silent as well. Several villagers murmured every now and then, curious as to the reason why they were there. Their attention quickly turned to the 2 men in front of them as Bo cleared his throat. The mayor motioned toward Rusl, indicating for him to start.

"This... is not easy. We are not here to discuss winter supplies, nor are we here to settle on where to start new crops next spring. The last tragedy that stuck was 7 months ago. Our children were taken from us. Fortunately, they returned unscathed. Unfortunately, a new tragedy is here to stay." Rusl paused to compose himself, "For many years we have grown as a cummunity, our families grew as well. When Uli and I welcomed Link into our home, we never imagined what a wonderful young man he would grow into. He grew into a brilliant hero, selfless and full to the brink with outstanding courage. Saying he was well loved would be an understatement.

"Many of you might be wondering why I am saying 'was' instead of 'is'. That is why we are here today. Many days ago I sent Link on an errand in the woods, a simple one, or so I thought. Since I assumed it would be no hard task for him, I grew concerned when his absence became prolonged. He had assured my family that he would return, but he did not. I went to investigate why he had not." He took another deep breath.

Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. Rusl's legs trembled, they struggled to hold his weight. By then the congregation was looking increasingly concerned. The swordsman was avoiding the eyes of the youngest woman, piercing and filled with pained disbelief. Ilia would never forgive him or her father for not telling her earlier. Both he and Bo knew that much.

Rusl continued with his shuddering exhale. "I walked through the woods, calling out for him. It took me awhile, but eventually I stumbled across something. There was blood everywhere. Link's gear lay strewn across a small clearing, there were several dead wolves laying around as well. There was no sign of him." Rather than stopping to allow the others to process it, he ploughed through.

He described how he followed the trail of blood to the den, how he couldn't fit through. He told them all about his fruitless search with the Resistance. Outrage bubbled up from a few of them, "Why didn't we here of this sooner?" They cried out. Patience dwindling, he and Bo explained that together. "How could this happen?". Voices overlapped and sobs permeated the air. By then Ilia was sobbing into her hands, Sera trying in vain to comfort her despite her own tears. Everyone knew the hero, the terrified little lost boy. He had grown into such a brave young man. But now. He was lost to them. Once again, forevermore. It wasn't fair. Fate wasn't fair.

"What are we going to tell the children?" Someone exclaimed. Agreements drifted through the sobs of Ilia and Sera. What /were/ they going to tell them? That their idol was dead? That they would never see the hero again?

"I had to tell Colin this morning already. It's best that you as parents tell them yourselves. That's why the meeting only consists of adults. It'll make it easier on them. Don't keep it from them, if they don't hear it from you they'll hear it from someone else. That would crush them more than hearing it from their father and mother. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go." With that, Rusl was gone, heading towards his house.

There was enough food for 3 days in the pack, 5 if he really stretched it. 2 bedrolls and several thin extra blankets were wrapped snugly within them. It seemed a bit overkill, but Rusl was sure Uli just wanted to keep him from freezing his extremities off. He had a full quiver on his lower back, sword where it always was. It was underneath his pack but he could still pull it free with ease. His shield hung on the side of the bulk of supplies, equally as easy to remove, the bow on the other side.

His remaining son was still asleep as he prepared for his hopefully short hunt. He gave his beautiful wife a short kiss on the lips and one each on both of his sleeping children's foreheads. With a wave goodbye, Rusl stepped out of the door and into the frigid world. He collided with somebody before he even got off his porch.

The other person grunted and stepped back. "I apologize Rusl, I didn't see you come out. Are you alright?"

Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly he nodded. He had run into Auru, the older man appeared to be fine as well.

"So, I heard from Bo you're going on a hunt without the Resistance."

Rusl's lips formed a thin line as he nodded again. He really didn't need the entire Resistance to be with him on the hunt. Not to mention that they would also need to pack, which would take much longer. It would further delay the time he could be hunting down the wolf.

"Well, it's a good thing the others didn't hear about this. Looks like it'll just be me and you Rusl." The swordsman opened his mouth to protest. "Don't get all worked up now, I may be a bit slow in the cold, but I have a feeling you might need me. The others are needed here, what use does an old man have in a grieving village? I'm coming with. You don't need to be murdering yourself by overdoing things."

Rusl didn't know it then, but Auru had a really good point. Vengeance is powerful, it can lead people to exhausting themselves in their determination to satisfy its thirst. People have died in such a pursuit, never resting and overworking themselves to their own demise. Auru knew that, he knew it might be Rusl's downfall if he wasn't kept in check.

At that moment though, the younger swordsman groaned internally. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop the older man. At least Uli packed excessively.

So, that's how Rusl ended up on the hunt for a blue-eyed wolf with the oldest member of the Resistance. The tracks led out into Hyrule Field, continuing along the general area of the path. The meeting had taken longer than he had originally thought. The burning orange of twilight bled through the dark clouds above. Camp was set up alongside the road, snow was shoveled away so that it wouldn't melt and put out the fire or freeze them. Auru had been surprisingly quick that day compared to the past few on the search for Link. Rusl realized that it was likely less of Auru picking up the pace and more of the younger man's own exhaustion and soreness slowing him down. He had been so agressive, sorrowful, and full of malice for many days and it was wearing him down physically as well as emotionally. His mind continued to flow with dreary thoughts, they continued on to the point where he couldn't remember when he had actually fallen asleep.

While Rusl slipped into sleep, Auru sat awake. The cold night air made a frame around his breath despite the small warm fire nearby. The sputtering golden flame sat in front of their poorly constructed tent. Through the darkest of clouds in the sky the moon shone through. The platinum rays shifted as the clouds drifted past. It was beautiful. The older man glanced at the sleeping form beside him. That man was losing sight of such things. Pain and sadness stole the once peaceful and happy features from his face, even in slumber. Looking again to the sky, he prayed to the Goddesses that Rusl would not be lost to vengeance. That he may be saved. Amongst the black canvas a rip appeared, the beauty of the bright stars peered down on him. He smiled. Perhaps, there was hope for him yet.

A/N 3 AM and I have to go to church tomorrow at 9 am so I really gotta go to sleep. I did want to write in Link's POV, but I ran out of room and time and you guys know how that all works (plus my tablets giving me grief again, grr). I hope you guys enjoy this! Next update you'll see will be after the first chapter of Darker Days. Have a good day! See you next time! 


	11. Ch 11 Trial Upon Trial

A/N Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, favourites, and follows! It helps a lot to motivate me!

theweirdo: About the editing, I don't lol. Most of the time I whip up the chapter at 10-12 at night and finish typically at 1 AM. I don't edit cause I wanna go to bed. As for Rusl telling the whole story there's a variety of reasons. The main being a personal one, the others mostly involving how often I skim over it. I wanted to shake it up a bit. Plus I wanted to have Rusl tell them all of the details so that there won't be as many lil loopholes and such. To summarize: the shock factor ties some ends up. Does that make sense? I don't know, 1 AM me has a different thought process. Yes, I'm writiing a new fanfiction. In fact, I posted it and right after I did, I got the email saying you reviewed. I'm posting while I'm still writing this one because it gets really monotonous for me sometimes. Writing the same plot and story gets boring for me. I can't write just one thing at a time. Yknow?

First chapter of Darker Days is up! It took forever to finish. Usually I do it all in one night, but I stretched it out. A lot (same with this chapter, oops). Anyway, enjoy this chapter! I've been excited to write it! Enjoy!

Chapter 11

Breathe. Just breathe. Link repeated the internal mantra, his chest heaving and legs trembling. He had barely escaped death by his own surrogate father. It took a toll on him emotionally as well as physically. He had run far. Very far, very fast. His almost recovered wounds pulled and stretched. They burned. A lot. Especially his hind leg, it felt about ready to tear back open. He had run way too much that day. Everything hurt or trembled and there wasn't much he could do about it in the middle of Hyrule Field.

Melting snow on the path made for a cold, uncomfortable, mud-slush compound. Overall the exhausted hero was miserable. While there was less snow in the open space, it was still a hindrance. The only spot he could locate that was dry enough was a patch of rocks off the road. It was getting late. Another storm was rolling in, covering the beautiful tones of twilight. His heart thrummed with nostalgia. He was a wolf again, but he was lacking his companion. Survival had been his main priority for however long he spent recovering, yet he had time to think then. Time to think about days long past.

Nostalgia is a heavy emotion, it feels good for only a few seconds before you remember. You remember the good and the bad. More often than not, the bad is the remembrance that those times are over. For Link, it was a mixture. There was always something going wrong around every corner when Midna was with him. Then again there was all that /good/. The good that made him smile and think back to her playful grin. The good involved in friendly teasing. So much /good/ left when she did. With it the threat of future trouble caused by her realm, but she cut herself off. That's how an honest ruler should be, self sacrificing even if it means leaving what you care about.

Yet, as the battered wolf rested in discomfort, he wished that maybe she hadn't done what she did. Without her, he found that being a canine was difficult, especially since he needed the Master Sword to change back. Which was a problem. A big problem, he had returned it, and without Midna he doubted he would be able to get down there. He had thought about it. In the small amount of time he spent by the Forest Temple, he examined the way down. There was no way to get there down to the area without someone helping. Especially since it would be very difficult to do so with ice lacing the path. He resolved that he would have to go to Zelda. She became a Queen about 4 months after the Twilight receded. She was placed in that position without the usual requirement of marriage. The role fit her like a glove, but made contacting her difficult to say the least.

With the sun finally below the horizon, he looked away from the sky. It was late and the frigid cold managed to sneak through his thick coat. Darkness covered the land, but still the moon peeked through the dark storm clouds. Light platinum rays fell upon him. He took comfort in it. The thin lines accentuated the snow around him. It was gorgeous. For a moment he forgot his problems, reveling in the natural world. Before long the peaceful whisperings of the chilly breeze lulled him to sleep. He deserved the rest.

When Link woke up the next morning a light dusting of snow rested on top of his fur. Sure his fur kept the heat in, but the excess cold made it harder to stay warm. A grumbling growl bubbled up as he shook the snow off. His joints popped all the way down his spine as he stretched. A bed of rocks is hardly a bed at all. Content sighs followed each of his stretches, first his back then his appendages. He felt much better afterward. Pillars of light shone through the layers of dark clouds in the sky. The early sunrise could almost beat the beauty of a sunset. Almost. Once he was done stretching out all of his kinks he set his sights on Hyrule Castle. Newer stone practically glittered next to the old stone of castle town. Architect or not, it was a mystery how it could've turned out so well, even with the help of magical forces.

It wouldn't take long to reach Hyrule Castle. The main problem was getting inside. People and guards were slowly gathering courage after the twilight. If he was spotted he prayed that scaring them off would work. Getting into the castle to see Zelda was a different story. Again, without Midna it would be rather difficult. And as Queen, Zelda would likely be in the throne room, taking care of her kingdom bit by bit. He knew that she would recognize him at least.

Thirst brought the hero to carefully eat some snow. If he were to swallow a lot of it at once it wouldn't help much. He learned that the hard way in the mountains, having almost gotten hypothermia. With his thirst relieved he started to lope toward the castle. Mud and half-melted snow encased his paws once again. Joints and muscles ached from the day before and his lungs felt stretched out. He was tired of being in pain all the time. With Queen Zelda's help he would hopefully be able to return completely to normal. Afterward he would go back to Ordon and make up some kind of excuse. Being an adventure-loving hero meant that it would be easy to claim he took his time. With some luck he would be able to locate his weapons first, without them they would be suspicious.

Hardly any time passed before the icy mud and slush turned to cobblestones. The ever present chain on his leg clinked against the stone noisily. Wiping the mud off his paws was surprisingly difficult. When he was certain he wouldn't leave any tracks Link continued forward. He slipped into the shadows as he neared the gates. Despite the metal on his leg, stealth came easily to him. Slinking past the guards was even easier. The thought that his training lessons for them went to waste made him bare his teeth, his ears flattening in annoyance. He would definitely return to enforce their training routines. If a wolf with a noisy chain around its leg could make it past the gatekeepers, then an assassin could practically waltz into the castle.

Chilly temperatures thankfully kept most people indoors. The few guards that were lounging about were more preoccupied with warming their hands than keeping a lookout. At the moment it was a blessing for Link, but later he would definitely have some lectures prepared. Actually, not just some. Quite a few. Yes, that seemed more appropriate. The more he observed them from the shadows, the more he came up with. A wolfish grin appeared on his face, they were really in for it when he was normal again.

The gates to Hyrule Castle were open. For once the guards there looked serious, the exposed skin on their hands were a light red from insufficient warmth. Being about half their size, Link found that they were actually pretty intimidating. Their mouths were drawn tight, with at least one hand on their assortment of weapons, ranging from spears to swords. Only a couple stood guard at the castle, but if there was any kind of threat they would be quite capable of dispatching it.

Doubt in his dexterity concerning stealth brushed across Link's mind. He would need to be much quieter to get into the throne room. Cold stone beneath his paws seemed to grow colder as he stepped gingerly in the shadows. He sunk lower to the ground, the fur on his belly brushing it silently. Both ears swiveled around to catch any movements nearby that he couldn't see. Darkness continued to embrace him, allowing the wolf to continue forward, practically invisible to anyone else. Any noise made by his chain made him cringe. He really had to get to Zelda. Alive, that is. He would rather not be killed less than a yard away from the door to the throne room.

Nobody would suspect an intruder to be less than half the height of the average man. That aspect gave Link some comfort. They would be looking forward, not down. Relief washed away most of his anxiousness once he reached the door. Quietly, the wolf pushed it open just enough to squeeze through. The guards on the other side of the door didn't notice it was open until he was in the corner, shadows engulfing him once again. One of the 2 guards by the door simply closed it, not thinking much of it.

Back rod straight, chin held high, Queen Zelda sat on her throne below the statue of the goddesses. In front her stood the captain of her guards. He too held a rigid posture, but with his chin slightly bowed. They were discussing something, likely important. Keeping to the shadows, Link continued forward next to the left wall. With luck they would finish soon, allowing him a chance to approach her.

The Goddesses must've been laughing at him. It all happened so quickly. The obnoxious chain on his leg got caught on a tapestry. Of course, he didn't notice. Next thing he knew, his leg was abruptly pulled behind him. That wouldn't have been such a problem if the rod holding the fabric up wasn't so weak. The little bit of extra weight on it brought it crashing down, the billowing, colourful waterfall smothering him, the rod was close behind, striking him painfully before clattering on the stone floor. A shout rang out and the muffled sound of a sword being unsheathed reached his ears through the fabric. Fear immediately lanced through his heart and he struggled to fight out of the folds smothering him. Pain from the rod hitting him hindered some of his movements. By the time he got his head out, armour shod feet were nearly there. His struggle increased, but the chain on his foot remained stuck on the tapestry. He attempted a fierce snarl in hopes it would scare them away, but it came out as more of wimper than anything. A sword was raised above him, ready to strike.

"Captain! Still your blade!"

The sword stopped. "But your Majesty, this is a beas-"

"You heard what I said, now sheath your swords. We are not in danger." The sound of multiple swords slowly being sheathed was heard across the room.

Link halted his struggles. The weight of the tapestry continued to pin him down, but he could see Zelda approaching him. Embarrassment and relief rushed through him simultaneously. His back still smarted from where the rod had struck him, but he paid it no mind. At least he was alive.

The Captain and the guards stood nearby obediently, but anxiously. How did a /wolf/ get into the throne room, let alone into Castle Town? Each one watched their Queen crouch next to the shaggy beast with apprehension.

"Your Majesty, plea-"

"Captain, I insist that you remain silent. I know what I'm doing." The sharp annoyance in her tone cut through her usual professional attitude. The Captain's mouth shut with a click.

Link couldn't hold back a yelp as Zelda started to untangle him. His leg was still caught on part of it, her attempts to help causing it to twist. More embarrassment flooded him. Not much longer passed before he was almost free. The chain was stubborn. Upon reaching the part that was caught on the wolf, the Queen promptly gave up on preserving the woven material. The sound of the rip made the hero wince. It /was/ a beautiful tapestry.

Once free, he immediately bowed his head down. A mixture of respect, embarrassment, and gratefulness was put into it. Zelda motioned for the guards to leave. Their reluctance lasted only a second before she sent them a withering glare. They bowed and left, muscles taut and ready to spring back into the room if needed. The Captain remained, stubborn as ever in his desire to protect his ruler. She glanced at him, ready to tell him off before she realized she might need him. Remaining next to Link, she smiled and shook her head.

"There is no reason you should be bowing to me, Hero." her smile thinned a bit, "You are always attracting trouble, arent you?"

Straightening, Link flashed her a sheepish look. With luck she would catch onto the fact he needed help getting out of wolf form.

"Am I right to assume you're stuck in wolf form?"

Wow, that was fast. He paused briefly before nodding, not missing the already wide eyes of the Captain expand. Link wondered why he was still there, surely Zelda remembered his wolf form was to remain secret. Right?

"Only the Sword of Evil's Bane can change you back. I have a feeling you remembered that. You need help, correct?"

A second nod from the wolf.

"Very well, Captain Brockhoff will assist you." The man in question opened his mouth briefly to protest, then thought better of it and closed it. A hard look settled on his face. He didn't know what was going on, but whatever that wolf, /thing/, was he did not want anything to do with it.

Link noticed the harsh features of the Hylian. Uncertainty over the situation buzzed in his conscience. Zelda stood from her position and began to explain to the Captain where he would need to assist the wolf. Her air of authority was prominent, leaving no room for objection or disobedience. More gratefulness glowed through the hero. She knew. She understood. All was going to be good once again. The Hylian was filled in on how to get Link to the sword. It would be difficult still, but it would work if done correctly.

Despite the sense of respect the Captain exuded toward his ruler, the wolf couldn't help a feeling of distrust. He couldn't recall training anybody with the last name 'Brockhoff' when he briefly trained the guards. It appeared he still didn't know who Link was, Zelda hadn't mentioned his name to him and there had been many new heroes popping up after the Twilight. That was good at least, his identity was safe for the moment. He didn't need the people of Hyrule to see him as a monster. He could tell that Brockhoff was finding the situation frustrating and incredibly strange. Who wouldn't find it strange? A wolf that could comprehend people speech and formalities such as bowing, not to mention that a /Queen/ was referring to it as "hero". Way too weird. Most people would think that both the Queen and themselves were insane, which likely wasn't far from what the Captain was thinking.

Zelda dismissed both of them soon after her explanation. A simple 'good luck' followed them. The Captain held a reluctance to his stance. He highly doubted the wolf was anything significant, if anything, it was dangerous. Seconds after getting out of sight of the Queen he looked around for a chain. He would do his duty of course, but he was in no hurry to do so. Especially with the beast not having some kind of restraining lead on it. Just the sound of its claws clicking on stone behind him sent chills up his spine. It took less than 5 minutes to locate a decent sized rope that would do.

Despite his doubts in the canine's actual intelligence, he came up with a way to trick it. When the 'hero' wasn't looking, he took the rope and put it over his own shoulder. He expected his movement to catch its attention, but found that it had its nose in the air with eyes closed. They were outside and the smell of cooking meat and bread floated through the cold air, a shop nearby was selling warm and fresh food to the cold guards nearby. Perfect. Brockhoff turned to the wolf.

"If any other guard sees a wolf like you just wandering around it would be bad." He felt stupid talking to the animal. The only change in its countenance was an ear swiveled in his direction. "I need to put a rope around you, that way they won't kill you and we won't be seperated."

The only response Brockhoff recieved was a huff and the lowering of its head. He took that as an oppurtunity to slowly put the rope around its neck. No negative response. Ears flattened slightly, but not in aggression. In fact, it seemed more resigned than anything if that was possible.

"Good, I'll get you some food. I'm hungry too." His face flushed a bit, he still felt stupid talking to it.

Although the rope was a hindrance and pretty degrading, Link found that he was starting to like Brockhoff a little more. He /was/ getting free food after all. Hunger had been eating away his focus little by little. It would do good to eat something warm and filling. The rope rubbed his neck annoyingly as he and the Captain made their way to a shop. Some guards gave them weird or impressed looks as they approached. Link couldn't care less. The smells of the shop were /amazing/.

Rupees were passed to the shop keeper, scraps of roasted rabbit, chicken, and bread were given to the man. The scraps were placed on the ground before the hero, he was so hungry he couldn't care less if they got dirty at all. Every last bit of the meat disappeared down his throat, he licked his chops in contention. Looking up to the person on the other end of his rope, he watched him with interest. Cheese was melted over the bread, steam floated off of the small loaf he was eating. He found that despite having already eaten, his mouth watered. Scraps of meat just didn't feel like enough. Brockhoff glanced down at him, the same hard look from earlier sharpened his features.

"I already gave you food, this is mine."

Nonetheless Link continued to stare, looking away seemed too difficult. The man grumbled something akin to 'ungrateful mutt' and continued eating. The hero went back to disliking him. Free food or not, insults wouldn't do any good to help them get along.

Brockhoff took forever to eat, the swirling steam disappeared long before he finished his meal. Annoyance tickled the wolf's throat, pressing him to growl. It was already past midday, if they were going to get to Faron before midnight they had to leave soon. The man hardly spared him a glance despite Link voicing his annoyance. The cold stone beneath the canine added to his increasig frustration. They REALLY needed to go. Right then! He tugged on the rope a bit, trying to get the Hylian to follow. No use.

He was considering whether or not to bark when the Captain stood. Immediately, Link did too, tail wagging instinctively in his excitement. Finally! He went ahead of the man to the very extent of the rope. Being normal again was finally within his reach! Who cares about degrading ropes and tired paws? Link didn't. He was way too pumped to walk on 2 legs again. The gate to the outside world would be in his sight soon enough.

More excitement rushed in him. So much excitement, in fact, he didn't notice Brockhoff stop. It was abrupt, the rope tightened painfully around his neck, cutting off his airway briefly. Link hacked and gagged a bit, then attempted to growl in utter annoyance, which led to more coughs. The Captain started to move again, but in the wrong direction. What was he doing?! Didn't he know he gate was the other way?!

Familiar stone steps greeted Link. He recognized the area within seconds. Never had he been so tempted to bite someone. They were at Telma's bar. The buffoon was getting a drink! They needed to leave! Captain Brockhoff tied the rope to a metal fence post nearby, keeping it short enough that he couldn't bite it. What an asshole! Couldn't he see how urgent it was?!

The Hylian hadn't even stepped inside when the animal started to half-bark at him. Being a wolf, it would take a lot of effort to bark at all. Brockhoff rolled his eyes at the noise it was making. Once he stepped inside he asked the bar keep for a bowl of water. The beast was still barking pathetically. The Captain placed the bowl in front of it. Silence followed shortly after as it started lapping it up, the bright blue eyes never leaving him.

Link felt very stupid. He had assumed that the man was getting a drink for himself. He hadn't thought that he was in fact getting water for the canine. Yet, he still kept an eye on him. Being tied up was not fun and he would rather not remain so. The hero's focus drifted for a moment. Poof, Brockhoff was stepping right back into the bar. Muffled temptations to bark again remained unheeded. Perhaps he had gone to get more water? Link waited. And waited. And waited. People passed him, hardly noticing the canine if at all. Other people left the bar, but the Captain did not emerge.

Patience thinning, he attempted to listen for Brockhoff inside.

"C'mon Cap'n! You shoul' jus' keep the beasty! The Qeen won' know! She pracd- practically gave it to ya! If ya can'd keep 'im then ya c'n sell 'im!" A voice crowed out, drunken slurs lining each word.

"I dunno Aaron, 'm not so sure bou' that." That was definitely Brockhoff's voice. He was nowhere near as drunk, but drunk enough to make bad decisions.

"It's a great idear Cap'n. That way if you can'd find a use fo' the lil wolfie, then you c'n still get cash for its hide!"

"Hmm... I s'ppose yer right, mate. I'll settle it tom'rrow. I got nuwhere ta keep a beasty so I'll jus' sell it."

"Goo' lad, you shoul' buy meh some grog wi'h all tha' extra money you'll beh gettin'." With each word the voice seemed to become more intoxicated.

"Will do, will do, my frien'."

Alarm swept through Link, were they just talking about him?! He moved his ear away from the door. He didn't need Brockhoff anymore, he heard Zelda's advice. There was another way down to the sword. It was just difficult without help. Neck throbbing, he tugged on the offensive rope. Efforts were wasted upon trying to get the rope in his mouth. It was just too close to the pole. Frustration built up quickly, angry growling and snarling accompanied his attempts to free himself.

Link struggled for several minutes before he door had opened, a silhouette stood against the bright light of the bar. If it was Brockhoff he was doomed.

A/N Meant to post last night or earlier today, but I went to a wedding today and had to get a good night's sleep last night. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry if there are any major mistakes, my tablets been tying to murder itself a lot as of late. That includes messing up my documents. 


	12. Ch 12 Winter of Crimson

A/N SUPER IMPORTANT WARNING: ANNOUNCEMENTS FROM A SLIGHTLY LOOPY AUTHOR AHEAD! VERY LONG VERY PEPPY

BAD NEWS: My good charger for my tablet just kicked the bucket. I ordered a new one, but knowing my local post office it's not gonna be here within that "April 27-May 5" time period. Since I use my tablet to write all the time, my productivity is gonna go down. I still have a charger that works, but only if I spend 5 min maneuvering the wire so the charge flows through the cable right. Even then I can't guarantee that it'll actually work. So, if I'm gone for ages it's because my tablet is dead. If only I could find a charger for it at a gas station, but no, a 4-5 year old Samsung Galaxy Tab 2.0 is not an exceptionally popular device, which means no chargers within driving distance. ARGH!

Okay, I'm done ranting.

REALLY IMPORTANT AND GOOD NEWS INVOLVING ALL OF YOU: I do requests! I just want to make that clear to everyone. I WILL write fanfics for those of you who don't want to or don't have the time. I do have restrictions and such, you'll have to check my newly updated profile to see. (Cringes at old profile for a second). So if you're interested you can look there. The only thing I should really point out though is that (may sound selfish) my fanfics will come first. Yep, I said it. I have quite a few in pending right now, anything else comes after (sorry!). So far, I only have one request. Also, even if you requested a fic before someone else, it might not mean I'll write it first. It kinda depends on several factors, meaning: does your's have a good plot? How long do you want it to be? Any special requirements? Am I (the author) feeling lazy that week? How specific is your request (clearer the better)? Blah, blah, blah, etc.

If you haven't noticed, I'm a LoZ fan, though I do spread out to other fandoms. (Not too big on anime, maybe I'll write a few, probably not though). I like to read and I like weird crossovers. Examples of possible future crossovers may very well be: The Inheritance Series (Eragon) and LoZ. Or, Merlin and LoZ. One of my fave crossovers with LoZ has to be Harry Potter (that being Rebel Loveless's fanfic Guardian. Idk if I got any of that right though). Finally, LotR and Skyrim.

Again, I really like to read. There isn't much of a fanbase for books like the Mistborn series or other books by Brandon Sanderson (one of my fave authors, seriously, check him out). Nor is there a fanbase for the Rifleman (at least none of the fanfics I read from it were appealing to me). If you like a book that lacks fanfictions, talk to me mate. I gotchu. Tell me the book title plus the author and I'll go to the library or even buy it. If you want a certain fanfic, chat with me. I love book discussions so much! Just ask my English teacher, we spent almost the entire lunch period comparing To Kill A Mockingbird and The Watchman (both by Harper Lee of course) then discussing my favourite book by Don DeLilo, White Noise (casually forgets how to spell Don's last name, oops). I'm getting super excited! That's so new! I just love chatting with people about this kind of stuff! May seem a bit overwhelming for you guys, but I promise I won't suffocate you in all of it.

IMPORTANT: My main point is: don't be shy! I'll write plenty of things! AU's, crossovers, one-shots, anything! (Except smut and stuff, y'all better not be asking for that since at least 50% of you are likely younger than me). Even if you need someone to ask stuff about or whatnot, I'm here and pretty much always free. For example: Didn't like it when that character died? I can fix that! Either through writing or chatting, I'll be your saviour (I can at least try). Do you want a character to die? Sure thing! Angst? Lovely! Fluff? You bet! Romance? Why not? As long as there's no smut! I write a lot and it's always good to explore. Idk how many of you will actually request things, but as long as it follows the guidelines stuff I talked about, I'll probably write it for you. (I also do art stuff, but unless you have Instagram idk how I'd get the pic to you since social media hates my tablet).

FICTIONPRESS: I've also been meaning to get my Fictionpress up and running again. I have been meaning to write a story, but I've been busy. The only thing I'm most likely gonna be posting on there for now is some stuff I wrote for some classes this year. My story that I'll get around to one day will hopefully catch some attention. It's been through a lot so I hope it turns out alright. So far the only problem I've run into is names. Usually I'm good at coming up with names. Yet, somehow, I only have the protagonist's last name; Symphiary. Nothing else. Suggestions? Old names would work best. Stuff like Arturus (what we now use as "Arthur").

MORE GOOD NEWS: There's a really awesome prestigious creative writing class at my school, it focuses almost entirely on creative writing. And I was chosen. DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE IT IS I AM SO PUMPED FOR FALL SEMESTER NOW JUST SO I CAN WRITE THERE AHHHHHH! Barely anybody gets chosen! Out of 500+ Honors English students only 25-35(? Somewhere around that number) are given a blue slip thing saying they were selected. Literally ON THE PAPER it says something like: "poetry, short-stories, fan fiction...". I WILL GET A GRADE FOR WRITING FANFICTION GNJEJSJGJFKAK. I AM NORMALLY NOT THIS HYPER, BUT I AM SO PUMPED EVEN THOUGH I WAS ACCEPTED IN DECEMBER!

Alright, I'm sure everyone's had enough of my hyper, slightly loopy, and wild announcements. For those of you that read all of that: I admire your dedication. I hope you enjoy this chapter! This fanfic is gonna be ending soon, sadly. I had so much fun writing this. It turned out way differently than I had imagined at first, but it works. I really am proud of Restless Spirits. (I hope I didn't drag it on too long).

Enjoy! Thank you all so much for everything! Don't worry, there'll be another chapter. It'll be stopping somewhere around 14-15 chapters. (I think).

Chapter 12

Rusl had found that he was a lot more tired around then: his legs trembled with each step, eyelids clamped to the heavy weight of countless hours spent awake, each muscle seemed to pull the opposite direction he wanted them to go, all the while he felt as though he was being consumed by something. No, the burning of his very fibers was not what made him feel like that. Of course, his muscles screamed while they were broken down ruthlessly by the way he overworked himself. But...that wasn't it. It was something else. Something he couldn't pin down, so he constantly pushed the feeling away from himself. A mental parry against the unidentifiable. He had a task at hand, and nothing would prevent him from doing what he felt was necessary.

Walking through Hyrule Field had never been so stressful for Auru. Next to him Rusl ploughed forward continuously, steps fluctuating in speed often. He had hoped to find a way to calm the man, to relieve him of the reckless need for vengeance. Yet, nothing he knew of would have enough power to calm the swordsman's tempestuous heart. Rusl had strapped himself onto a yolk of anger and grief, utterly determined to pull it all himself whilst fulfilling the need to avenge a loved one. It was intimidating beyond measure. Elderly eyes frequently glanced at their companion, struggling forward with stumbling steps, footprints filled with volatile determination. Fire from the man's very soul could practically be felt illuminating the air, flames touching upon the snow and somehow allowing the passage of the overburdened being. For the first time since the Twilight descended upon them, Auru felt the familiar sense of dreadful fear. Not fear for himself, but fear of what was to come. He had to find some way to stop his fellow member, his friend. The way he was acting wasn't right.

No words passed between either men, for good reason in Rusl's opinion. They had slept later than he had wanted. Both of them had slumbered far too late. Through the layers of gray clouds, he felt as if the sun was taunting him from its perch at the very center. Only an hour had passed since camp had been broken, supplies tucked sloppily away in the swordsman's rush. An hour before noon. Walking for only an hour didn't get them far on slow and pained feet. Tracking in an ever-changing environment was difficult. If snow from the night before had not filled some tracks, then mud from the melting slush would manage to fill a few. Regardless of the obnoxious impediments, he was still able to locate the general direction that the tracks would always be heading towards. It was not super difficult to follow them, the only things that slowed the younger of the two down was the exhaustion. Pure exhaustion that he denied he had, even to himself.

Too much time had passed. Time wasted on resting, checking, retracing, double checking. Gone. Several hours layered themselves upon the suffering man. He and Auru had spent so many hours searching for the tracks. None were to be found. Once they got close to the castle, the paw prints disappeared amongst the tracks of patrolling guards or merchants wandering down the road nearby. Daylight turned to dusk just as Rusl's frustration broiled to a simmering anger. Anger at himself, at the snow, at the mud, even at the people that had obscured the tracks, and most of all he was furious at that blasted monster! For once he had hoped that something would turn out as planned, but he had fooled himself. First his son had been taken for him, assumed missing until he was forced to accept the death of the young man. That wonderful young man. He was doing it for him. Nothing was going right, though. He couldn't even locate one of the beasts that had caused everyone so much pain. Hiking around the castle in hopes of finding any other tracks proved just as fruitless. Cold air dug into his palms, following the sharp indents made by his nails. Bottling such anger was becoming very, very difficult. Upon finding the wolf he was no longer sure he would give it the mercy of a quick death. Those dark thoughts would've surely made his older companion fret, he knew that much.

Another precious hour drifted by, allowing the moon a chance to raise itself up and peer down on him. Taunting him with its pale light, another reminder of the time he spent. The time he spent failing. Failing at avenging his boy. Such failure that drove him to continue circling castle town, storming close to it and then far away once again before coming back. Focus was placed heavily upon locating the tracks. How could they just disappear?! It wasn't right! Intense focus was only broken by the concerned face of his elder, an aged hand on his shoulder.

"Rusl? Did you hear me?" The stern and slightly puzzled look of the younger man showed that he had not, "I said we need to stop for tonight, we've been at it for hours. We both require a good night's sleep, Telma always has room for us, besides, she needs to be informed."

Glazed eyes glanced at the walls surrounding castle town, the swordsman had nearly forgotten about the barkeep. Blinking twice he looked at Auru briefly, then once again at the muddied paths surrounding the dark stone of the castle. Food...heat...bed...sleep... all of that sounded appealing. No! There was still light from the moon, he could still investigate the lack of tracks. Midnight would be a suitable time to retire into a warm, cozy bed.

"Go on ahead... I need some space right now, do you mind informing Telma for me?" Rusl asked his elder with such sincerity a glimpse of the true grief slipped through.

Auru was surprised. While he knew the man was angry, the old him still stuck. Such pain and loss of hope and happiness was raw, it had avoided the temperament of malice. Malice had warped so much of him already, but the sorrow remained in all of its splendor. Concern was still prominent, he felt that he owed the pained man the space he deserved.

"No, I don't mind. I'll tell her. Just don't be out here too long, Telma will end up locking you out." He left with a final reassuring pat on the younger's shoulder. That poor man.

Meanwhile, Link had been struggling with all his might to free himself. Never had he felt so virulent toward another person! He had been completely mislead by Brockhoff! Wait until he told Zelda! He was not normally one to snitch on people, but at that moment he knew he would raise all kinds of hell against the Captain. The hero regretted the moment he let that idiot tie the humiliating rope around his neck. He should've known better, but he had been distracted.

As the wolf's struggles increased, the door to the bar opened. A second passed where Link remained frozen, then the scent of alcohol and the captain reached his nose. Immediately after smelling those unsavory scents, his thrashing and struggles resumed. He was not going with that drunken oaf! Not in his life! He didn't want to be sold! Drunken, fumbling fingers came close to the knotted rope on the fence. Coordination off balance and speed lacking, Brockhoff had no time to move his hand from the furious, snapping jaws. Soft skin easily parted under bright fangs. A coppery taste barely glanced the wolf's tongue as the hand was yanked back, teeth still clenched, parting skin like soil under a plow. A single slur of many curse words strung together pierced the night air. Shouts of anger and pain emphasized random syllables, never a full curse.

Struggling against the rope once again, Link was suddenly struck upon his head by a fist. Coro's ladle was nothing compared to that! Colours wavered across his vision and one of his sensitive ears rang in tune with the pain in his skull. Distracted by his pain, he had not noticed the rope being removed from the metal fence post and wrapped around the forearm of his captor. A fierce tug on his neck made him gag, the jolt knocking his sore paws beneath him. Tumbling to the ground with a thud, he snarled in anger and annoyance. Loyal to the Queen?! As if! That man was certainly not following the orders she had given.

Amongst the chaos caused by Brockhoff, Link noticed that he had stumbled when the rope had been tugged on. A plan burst forth, brilliant. Another sharp tug chaffed the sensitive skin around the wolf's neck. The man was attempting to maintain a tight grip on the beast, but too much alcohol was in his system. If sober him were to remember his deeds that night, he would never be able to call himself an honest man. Too much to drink prohibited both his decision making skills and his coordination. Nothing could have prepared him for the powerful canine lunging away from him with all its might.

Having the rope wrapped around his forearm proved to be a bad thing for the Captain. He would've cried out in pain if the air wasn't stolen from his lungs. Less than a second had passed before he hit the cold stones in front of Telma's bar. Distantly, he heard a yelp beyond the ringing of his own ears. Air was refused passage to his lungs, he struggled to inhale properly. In his panicked delirium the rope carefully unwound itself from his aching arm. Even more distantly he heard the sound of fast, clacking nails disappearing. Finally, air rushed into his desperate lungs and he lay there for a minute or two. Then, he got up, stumbled to a wall near the door and promptly slid down it. He was unconscious before he even hit the ground, alcohol being the true reason why he passed out.

Hot blood pounded through Link's veins, pushing out of the tear in his skin. Ropes were a terrible way to restrain something. Dark crimson sprayed in little droplets as he ran through castle town, the rope dangling from his maw. That cursed rope had ripped the skin on his neck! It wasn't serious, simply superficial, but still. It was painful! Very much so! Never had he been so angry at anyone! He had done nothing to the man to insight such treatment!

Escaping Castle Town was much easier than entering it. Surprised guards simply stared after him in disbelief as he rushed out of the gates and into the dark expanse of Hyrule. His eyes and body told him that he needed to sleep, but the adrenaline in his system worked his muscles like strings on a puppet. Pressing on into the shadowy world, he ran and ran in the direction of Faron. Only once his hind leg locked did he slow down. The joint on the wounded appendage protested greatly as he limped along. Yes, he was exhausted and utterly sick of running and being in pain, but he was ready to fix his predicament. He knew that by morning time, he would be standing on two feet once again.

Yet, Fate had been merciless to the hero so far, it was not quite ready to release him from its grasp. In the shadows, unnoticed by the wolf, a man had spotted him. Barely spying him through the darkness. Anger and determination had swallowed him, bit by bit. By morning, Link could either be walking on 2 legs or left on none.

Daylight squeezed through the lining of clouds above the boughs of the trees. Clotted blood stuck the fur on Link's neck together. People were right when they said you forget pain. He had forgotten the excruciating pain of overexerting himself. Remembering that it _had_ hurt was different from how _bad_ it actually was. Dragging his tired paws through the snow and underbrush of Faron Woods was becoming increasingly difficult. Regret played its discordant notes on his heart and gut. He should've waited, but he was desperate. Oh so desperate. Mind clouded and heavy, his panting did nothing to clear it. The air in his lungs couldn't blow away the fog, no matter how hard his breaths came. Though he had forgotten how agonizing it was to overwork himself, he knew that he was worse off then than he had been with Midna. At least the pads on his paws were saved by her Warping. Right then he truly knew the extent of his strength. He had worn it thin, just as how he had worn his paws so thin that they bled. While he was aware of his overexertion, he was unaware of the red that filled his tracks. It was not a subtle colour. Bright and vibrant, it had soaked into the prints. A casting of blood. Just as vibrant as he was, his own life, obvious and stunning against the world. A life that a wounded and angry father believed to be gone.

Unbeknownst to the wolf, it was turning into a race. Limping and in pain, he didn't know that such desperation and determination he held was also in Rusl's grasp. How could he know? It had not even occurred to Link that the man was hunting him with such fierceness. Nor had it occurred to him that his prolonged absence was warped into a tale of death and the burning hell-fire of anger. It just hadn't. Such a tale was beyond him, his own wounds and suffering body distracted him from thinking deeply about the villagers. Completely oblivious to the unadulterated enmity aimed at him. If it wasn't for luck, he would have been caught by then. Luck could only get him so far though.

A limping gait is slow, choppy, almost fickle. By the time Link had reached his destination the sun was nearly at its peak. The slope was sheer and icy, without the help of a person he would struggle to get down to the bottom without tumbling. Speaking of the bottom, it was barely visible. That was the way he was supposed to go, but he was uncertain nonetheless. Snow had piled up in the woods, filling them slowly but surely. Hopefully, if he fell, it would be a soft landing. It seemed unlikely, as he would probably hit a tree before he hit the piled snow at the end of the slope. Which turned out to not be far from the truth.

A wary paw was placed on the steep, icy ground. Before he did, he had remained quite blissfully unaware of the blood seeping out of his pads. As weight was pressed on the numb, calloused skin, a stream of red trickled down the ice. The warm, beautiful ruby liquid carved a small river through the soft flakes, stopping short as the cold congealed it. At the sight of the blood, Link had paused, almost unable to comprehend the sight before him. His stunned mind couldn't seem to place why. Seeing the crimson against the stark white only brought one question to his mind. _What?_ There must have been a reason why the discovery had been so jarring to him. The reason of which showed itself soon enough.

Sometimes, even the best of hunters find themselves as the prey. Link was ignorant to the fact that he was. No one _expects_ that anything bad will happen to them, especially so close to achieving a goal.

A familiar, so very familiar, soft whistle threaded the air. Life once again decorated the ground. Droplets bouncing against the dazzling white. Beautiful lakes of their own, seeping into the flakes, devouring them and resting seconds later. They adorned the ice, complimenting it, embracing it. Lakes, ponds, and rivers of crimson. Unique art, a symbol. A finale to the life it had once preserved.

A winter of crimson beauty.

A/N Since my tablet is murdering itself the only reason this chapter is slightly better quality is cause I put this on Doc Manager. Much easier to use on the computer, but difficult to write on Sundays so, yknow, win-lose. Anyway, I'm done here. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Sorry for the super long author's note at the beginning, I was excited and had a lot of announcements. This chapter is not as long as I would like it, but it'll do.


	13. Ch 13 Drums of Sorrow

A/N Hi guys, I am guilty of procrastination. I should've started this awhile ago, but I did not. Sorry. I also haven't done my homework so I gotta do that later, oh well. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. This very well may be the last one, yes, the last one. Quite a finale. There _may_ be an epilogue, by popular vote or if I feel like it some time into the future.

I'm not cruel, I'm just an author. Though, summarizing what Brandon Sanderson says: Where's the fun in writing if your reader's aren't being tortured?

I'm done being mean now. This story has come so far, I'm so proud of what this and my writing has become. I had no idea where I was going with this, which is fine. I wrote and learned along the way. Every one of you has helped me continue. Thank you. Gratitude is not measured in words, but my actions here do little in the regard of thankfulness either. I doubt many of you will be thanking me in return. Honestly, I am truly thankful. Never did I imagine that this would grow so much or that I'd get so far. It's baffling, I must thank you all again for this adventure.

My thanks spread to all of you, one final time.

As Midna once said, "See you later…"

Chapter 13

Often, questions of widespread trauma and pain revolve around one inquiry; Where were you?

Where were you when the Twilight appeared? Where were you when the King died? Such questions are even applied to wonderful things, beautiful happenstance or planned occasions. Where were you during the Princess's Coronation? Where were you when the castle was reopened? Where, where, where. A chorus of questions created simply so that people can _relate_ to each other. Those inquiries meant for the sole purpose of socializing or interrogation. They vary. They vary in sincerity and levity. Sorrow and happiness.

Those questions extend to families or gatherings. It seems, though, that the sadder the event, the more clarity in each memory. Tragedy. Where were you when you heard that Mother had passed away? "I wasn't home. It was dark, a new moon that night. Someone approached me, I thought they were lying when they told me. Goddesses, I still can't believe it. Please, tell me it's not true."

The closer you are to the person, the deeper the memories etch themselves. Deep within your mind. It's not the etching of charcoal on parchment, or the tapping of a design on metal. No, it is more than that. It is a brand, a scar. A scar that is always bright, an angry red for the rest of your life. One that you see every day, such as you would notice a mark on your hand, tight and always pulled so taught that it itches and burns. No one ever truly stops mourning.

Now, why would anyone elaborate so much on such a subject? Why bother? Why? Because someone needs to spread the word. Youth and blissful ignorance to most of the world doesn't dampen the pain of true grief. Even if a child doesn't understand death, it leaves a mark. Besides, one day they will know what death really means, and they will remember too.

So when people ask a child that question, they may remember just as clear as an adult. The closer they were to the person, the more they do. That inquiry. It brings you to look on that mark, that brand, that painful scar. It hurts for everyone.

"Where were you?"

"At the Spring. It was cold, snow was everywhere. I'll never forget…"

And no one can forget it. Such pain makes it feel like so long, when in reality it has only been days.

"Rusl came home and told me. Except…it's no longer home anymore…is it?"

A missing piece.

It hadn't been long since the tragedy was revealed. Not long at all, but it felt like months. Pain, fresh. Disbelief, persistent. Everyone suffered, yet they were unaware. A bliss shrouded by the pain in each heartbeat, each breath. Every movement, wrong. A twitch felt out of place.

Far fewer days passed than they were aware. For, as stated previously, they weren't. Weren't aware, that is. They didn't know that the moment they sat down at a table, or opened the door, poured some water, lit a fireplace, that there was something else going on. Nobody knew of Link's escape from a drunken Captain as they slumbered. Nor did they know of the bloodied prints, cast that morning by the Hero of Twilight. Neither were they anymore aware of the hunter being hunted than the blue-eyes wolf was. Or of the deep red fading to pink in the snow. They were just aware of their own pain. That event did not extend to the common: Where were you? As they did not know of it.

This drags on, but where does it go? Again, such elaboration, but why? You ask, but press forward and revelation will be found. Whether or not it is appreciated is a different matter.

For the village, word had already gone out far enough. The children were told, hearts dropped from up high. Too late to tone it down. Tales of Rusl's family, Bo, and the Resistance learning far before them brought an undertone of outrage. Small, but present. Such outrage was expressed best by no other than Ilia. Yells and shrieks darted in fast lines through the cold air the morning after she was told. Everyone knew who those yells belonged to, most sympathized with her. Why had they not been told earlier? Bo could not calm his daughter enough to explain. The villagers would not hear it. All they heard was the drums of grief and a piercing, yet quiet falsetto of betrayal.

Inquiries were spread, the ever familiar question came as well. Many coming to "console" the grieving family with one child less, were there just to ask them. They felt betrayed, such actions seemed only fair.

"Where were you when you found out?" "When were you told?" "Oh, poor dear, Colin must be taking this so hard." "If you need anything just ask."

Such questions and phrases seemed kind, but that undertone…it left something upon them all that had not been there before. Not quite an undertone, really, more like an undertow or a rip current. A flow of emotion so strong that it is hazardous to ponder upon. Strength in such emotions that the only young woman in the village fled her home. Currents of emotions dragging her from her father. It is hard to find personal space in such close quarters to everyone, however, she found it regardless. Refuge was found in assisting Uli in her grief. The older woman and Colin were the only two she forgave quickly amongst those that knew beforehand. It wasn't their honest intention to hide the information from her. They were simply grieving like she was.

Ilia did not grieve like most people. She had to keep her hands busy, always moving, always helping. In payment for her stay in the small house, she cooked and cleaned as much as she could. Uli had been beaten by her own emotions, despite her insistence on the younger woman not being required to work, it was obvious she was exhausted. Colin could see it as well, the tired eyes and shaky limbs. Just as how Rusl had been the first couple of days, where the blonde child had assumed it to be just physical exhaustion and worry. He knew then that it was not just those.

So, Ilia became a welcome guest in the sorrowful family while Rusl was absent. She's was very welcome, it gave Uli a chance to rest and still take care of her daughter. Colin…well…Colin couldn't care less. He tried to help, honestly he did. Sometimes he could muster up enough motivation to do something, but even then Ilia usually got to it first. Except for comforting his Mother. That he did with all his worth.

Of course, everyone suffered. Everyone hurt, such as it is with any death. The Resistance suffered, even more so after they learned that Rusl and Auru left them behind. The villagers suffered, their children almost as much as the parents. Fado, he was hurting bad. Real bad. He and Link had been closer than most people would guess. However, he had no one anymore. Parents long dead, fellow villagers in grieving. He was by himself, once again, the first time being the demise of his Mother and Father. Alone in sorrow.

Fado did not pine for attention, he did not seek out others. Yet, he was found by Ilia, who had sought _him_ out. Her concern was real and she knew his pain. She became his solace in the storm. Who would've thought? While her skills as a healer were growing, it seemed that they stretched to emotions. Keeping herself busy was no longer a challenge, between Uli, Colin, and Fado she was doing well. Her skills showcasing what a wonderful Mayor she would be in the future. Bo's pride in her held firm despite her reluctance to be near him.

It is doubtful that most people know the true extent of damage caused by death. It is akin to dropping a lit lantern. Moments after the warm metal slips from your hands, it strikes the ground. Glass and clanging metal override the sound of the oil spraying everywhere, fire catching on anything. Everything. Just a small flame can do so much damage. Cause so much _pain_. Where is the closure when everything's been _burned_? An inferno of suffering. That's how the villagers felt, that's how they would always feel about such topics.

They would never be able to imagine how quickly their pain could be renewed.

Pride. Not quite a perfect shot, but he knew. He knew that before long, it would be dead.

Rusl had followed the path, so close that even with the blossoms of red and pink within the tracks he made certain it was his prey. The final piece before he could let his mind rest. A chance to ease some of the pain for his lost child. Never would he lose anything else to those beasts. Those monsters. Hours of the night were spent in pursuit. No minute wasted. Physical suffering held no ground over that of his heart. The man was aware of the irony that his own feet started bleeding as he followed those vibrant red prints. He knew he was pushing himself, but it was worth it. Worth it to see to the demise of a monster. One that he had been tailing so much that they shared the pain of obvious overexertion. The pain of bleeding soles, faltering steps.

Always, regardless of his suffering, Rusl remained close in the chase. Tracks became fresher, the blood not yet congealed as he drew closer. Moonlight turned to the beginnings of sunlight. Breath turned to ragged struggles for air. Each inhale allowed the cold a chance to claw the raw insides of his lungs. Every exhale presented to him the damage done by the chill, mouth filled with the taste of copper.

However, his pain still brought no stutter in his resolve, no hesitancy in his step. Snow crunched underfoot continuously, trees skirted around, eyes always on the bloodied prints. Determination, anger, grief, all driving him forward, pushing him, straining him. He had to get to that beast. He had to.

Colours blurred and sparked together around his struggling body. When was the wolf going to stop? It was just as persistent as he was it seemed. Rusl prayed that it would be in sight soon, that he could end his own suffering in one shot. One swift arrow in the flesh of the monster. Quick and easy, one of the few metal-tips would work best. Through layers of tissue, cartilage, bone, organs, anything. It would do it's job well. The wolf seemed just like him, luckily. Bleeding feet is almost always a sign of being worn too thin. He knew that going unnoticed by it would be easy. A shudder, all the way up his spine, akin to a knife scraping along bones of a fallen animal. It was excitement and anticipation. He was close, that much was noticeable.

Any exposed skin was red, his hands and toes nearly numb. Blood in his boots congealed and puddled around his toes uncomfortably in his boots, socks soaked with it. It was about that time where he almost have up. Almost. Looking down at the tracks again, he spotted a change. Rather than the clumpy, frozen red or rosy pink, the crimson glistened. A protruding branch, peeking out of the snow, resting in the middle of the tracks. Rolling along the grooves in the bark, a drop reflected the dim light of the sun. Fresh and bright.

A pause, loud steps on in the snow went silent. Crouching, Rusl peered through the snow-dusted foliage. There. Standing with its back to him was the wolf. Its gray fur was matted slightly, head dipped low out of his sight. His shot wouldn't end its life quickly, but he no longer cared. As long as death would claim it, he was willing to try and hit it. His was in his hands quickly, arrow on the taut string. The beast moved, and he moved.

Crimson sprayed, the canine tumbled down a sheer hill that Rusl had not noticed. He cursed, securing his bow. Raw skin on his feet protested greatly, the swordsman limped towards the slope. Streams and marked of red were pressed into the crushed snow. Sprays of already cooled blood rested on the top of the hill, originating from the impact. Scanning the bottom, he found that he could not spot his prey. He could barely see the end of the slope amongst the boughs of trees and snow piled on the ground. He hesitated, not wanting to end up rolling down as well.

Taking the risk, he moved down. Now, it was not easy. Occasionally the dyed snow would cross his path, colouring his brown boots a dark rust. His hands would reach out each time his foot would slip. Slow and tedious, time passed just as slow.

Even so, it was worth it all. Every last slip, every last cough of copper stealing the breath from his lungs. Worth it. Finally, he had avenged his boy. Finally. Excitement played the drum of his heart, once so thin from the abuse of sorrow. He was ready to look upon the damage he had done and be proud. Proud of his achievement. He would never forget the pain wreaked upon him and the village, but now he wouldn't forget the victory of taking down the last wolf. Its hide would hang from the wall in the summer and warm his bed in the winter. Oh that victory, beautiful and sweet contrasting against the metallic tang of his mouth.

Step after step, his fingers trembled in anticipation, slip or stumble did nothing against him. Nothing. Reaching the bottom was difficult. Pounding louder and louder in his ears, his heart beat faster with adrenaline. His life force increasing whilst the beast's dwindled. Almost as if he was drawing energy from the life so carelessly painted across the frozen canvas of snow. Shredded and tattered skin on his feet rubbed together painfully, cold air scratched his exposed skin and lungs. He convinced himself that it really was worth it. No amount of agony could stop the bloodlust pouring itself down his spine.

Ponder. Ponder the guilt that comes with anything. All those years ago, you may remember that lie you told your mother, or the time you broke something and didn't fess up. Ponder then, a greater version of that. Injuring a friend or loved one slightly. Again, imagine that on a greater scale. Perhaps something that's so great it bothers you almost every day. Guilt that clings to you. Every. Day. Every. Night. Finally, broaden that. A thousand times. Have you ever heard of 'parricide'? No? It is also known as 'parenticide'. The act of killing one's own parents. Apply that guilt to that action. Done on purpose or not, parricide is known for the guilt driving the culprit insane. Hate does little to change such guilt. Now, ever heard of 'prolicide'? No? Good. Parricide alone can drive a person insane, prolicide is hundreds of thousands of times worse.

Bloodied snow amongst foliage switched to old stone. A stone path so worn and rugged that stepping upon it caused it to crumble. Sky was dark and thick with layers of clouds, all threatening to release the snow from the heavens. Gently, a cold breeze would ruffle the swordsman's clothing every now and then. Branches filled with snow created an artificial blizzard as it drifted down. Just as how it had been with the Resistance in the search for Link.

Vengeance surged through his bones, strengthening them. Somehow, the trail of blood still went on. Snow was pressed down in places where the monster had obviously stumbled or fallen. The fact of it still being alive set a fire behind Rusl's eyes. Burning until he could no longer comprehend properly. Mind and eyes blurred while focused on the white and red, he almost missed it. Almost missed the sound up ahead. The familiar sound of metal being clanked against stone, and sharp, pain filled gasps, the scuff of boots on stone and snow.

No wolf could make those sounds.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Eyes hesitant to leave the path. Then he saw. Before him, hair tussled and matted, clothing no longer a distinguishable colour besides red, a sword in hand like he always did, stood _Him._

Time slowed. Eyes of sapphire, filled with the stars of a clear summer night looked right at him. More crimson coated the once healthy cheeks and mouth. Then, He smiled. One corner of the lips rose, revealing red stained teeth amongst their white brethren. Clang. Grasped in hand was the purple-hilted sword from long ago. However, blood dripped from those hands, down the blade and into the hole made by the tip in the snow. That smile, so bright and full of life. _Life._ But, _He_ was dead. Dead. Not leaning heavily upon the Master Sword. Not falling amongst the crystals of snow. Not staining the white landscape crimson and pink. Not smiling a bloodied smile, his pillow the hard and frozen ground.

Fate was a taunting, cruel being. Presented to Rusl was in fact his son. Falling across the crumbling stone, the father himself brought to his knees in seconds. Next to _Him_. A splintered, recognizable arrow in His blackened, no, _deep_ red side. Presented to him was the boy he had raised with his heart and soul. Before him, His head rested on the swordsman's lap within seconds. Rouge lips forming the one thing Rusl had never thought he would hear. Never before and never again.

"Father…"

Blue irises reflected the sky as they darkened, darkened, closed. Sword clattering to the stone, slick blood coating the hilt. Blood slicking the palms of Rusl's own hands. Cooling blood. Cooling skin beneath his touch.

No. Goddesses, not that. Anything, anything but that.


	14. Epilogue 1

A/N TRIGGER WARNING: SENSITIVE AUDIENCES BEWARE

Hi guys, sorry for taking so long. Procrastination, sickness, etc. All really get in the way. (Edit: I got even _more_ sick and it's been a struggle to write this. Mild-severe things going on with me currently, but I think I'll be okay).

First off, I wanna point something out. My intention was actually not to kill Link, but I did. So, due to an awesome request, there are going to be 2 epilogues. The one here is the sad one. The other is the happy-ish ending. I've been excited to write these, really I have been, but not continuing RS feels so odd.

We've come a long way, and ending it is difficult. I loved writing it, even with my spontaneous decisions to scramble the story line. It's been quite a journey and I'm so glad I came back to . I hope you enjoy these final chapters.

ANNOUNCEMENT: Captivity Ch. 1 will be coming sometime soon so keep an eye out for it. Also, has been really problematic lately, from not showing reviews to not showing Darker Days on the main LoZ website forum thing. If you guys have similar problems, let me know. I can't fix them, but the staff can if there are a lot of complaints.

Anyway, enjoy the end of Restless Spirits. It has been a wonderful experience.

"May the light illuminate your path."

* * *

Life is worthless.  
Why should I try?  
All I want to do  
Is lay here and die.

Epilogue 1

What can you expect from someone who has loved and lost? From someone that has been beaten by the cruel hand of fate, their soul left with the scars of a thousand sorrows. What can you expect but their body to reflect their heart? Then, you have to ask yourself: How can a body break into thousands of miniscule pieces? How can It replicate such pain? It can't, but it tries. Goddesses, how it tries.

The shuddering appeared first, his hand drifted to his mouth, covering it. Dry sobs turned into a fountain of pain, washing the blood from his hand slowly. Melting snow seeped into his clothing wherever it made contact, he paid it no mind. Rusty liquid dyed his knees, again, he paid it no mind. His focus and attention was scattered yet somehow stuck. Stuck on the clarity of the red. Flitting eyes tripping over the sight. Blurred vision simply magnified what he was seeing, the horror, the graying skin.

One hand remained trembling on his face. Sobs were the only noise he could hear. Gone were the noises of winter birds, of creaking boughs. Gone was the noise of his boy's precious laughter. No more would he smile, the last toothy grin he had given haunted Rusl's mind, a comfort in which he could not indulge in as it was tainted by bloodshed. Tears dripped onto the chilling face of the young man, now lost to death. Spraying outward in little droplets, each tear cleared a small surface of bloodied skin. Rusl used both arms to try and draw Link closer, denying to the heavens that he had lost his son again. Again to a beast, not a monster of tooth and claw, but the monster of man. The beast of himself.

It couldn't be true. Goddesses, he had spent so long trying to avenge him, to fix the irreversible. Only to discover that an arrow he had shot himself had ended up splintered in the side of the Hero. An arrow so blatantly his, rather than the typical goose feathers a yellow streak had been painted on them, now splattered with red. He had put that there himself, an easy way to find his best arrows. Not even an hour or a half hour had passed after that cursed tip had separated the skin of the wolf, no, it all made sense. The tracks, the blue eyes, the arrow, everything. Somehow it was true, deep down he knew. He had shot his own son.

Suddenly it was all too much. Stiffening flesh in his arms, the stifling scent of blood. It choked Rusl, gagging him. Sobs were cut short as he coughed, choking and gagging on the smell of so much blood permeating the cold air. Ribs clenched together, tightening, squeezing his lungs and heart. Heaving and hacking, he scrambled away from the lifeless body of his son. Air finally reached his starving lungs, bringing with it gasps and sobs. What had he done? Sweet Nayru, what had he done?

People had fallen at his hand before. Fallen to the icy bite of iron, the piercing dart of his arrow, to his quick ruthless dagger. He had not known them, and never would, but they always had something in common. Every single one of them had light in their eyes. All of them lost their breath, the beat of their heart, everything, before they lost their light. Before they lost their soul. Rusl never forgot their eyes, and he would never forget Link's. Forever engraved on his mind would be the fading blue. Crushed, suffocated. Snuffed out just like a candle, a quick breath shifting the flame so fast yet so achingly, slow. A flame that had once burned so bright, only to be left with a smoldering wick clouding the eyes of the dead. Dead. Dead! Was he really dead?!

In a brief spout of delusion, he once again placed the cold, gentle head onto his lap. In his guilt and sorrow, he gently removed the splintered arrow from the still form. Only a trickle escaped from the many little wounds of the shards. Resting a trembling, stained hand just over the mouth and below the nose. Waiting…waiting. He would not give in, a hand was placed on the soft neck, pressing into the side with patience. There was no pulse, no blood to beat in the heart for it was spilt almost entirely on the forest floor. Spilt and displaying the colours of autumn, with its red and rust-like hues. Cherry blossoms of pink coloured melting patches of snow, just like spring itself.

Then, he stopped. Sobbing, movement, breathing, everything ceased in that moment. With the icy stone wall nearby, and the stone path mostly covered by snow, the tree behind him felt ominous, alive. Back up the slope looked like a cliff face. But he needed to leave. To leave with the Hero. He needed to…why did he need to? He just…did.

Only vague memories remained from the experience of carrying the stiff body up the hill. Such pain he suffered, climbing up that icy slope. It was but a fog in the back of his mind. A fog full of flashes, sparks of pain, and the shedding of his boots halfway up. Tattered feet dotted the landscape further. The lurid situation was fading. Already. The top seemed too far away, until he was there, collapsing into blood and snow.

A blink of exhaustion, that's what it feels like. To rest your heavy lids, only to open them and find yourself in a different place. Different, yet familiar. Your addled brain tells you, lies to you. It was not a second that had passed, but much longer. That's what it felt like for Rusl, to close his eyes for a second when he fell, to wake up with heat encircling him. What he had last seen, crystals melted into slush by red, woods darkening and daunting. That was not what he saw then. He saw the ceiling of his home, a glimpse of yellow hair from the corner of his eye. Then he blinked again. That time into much needed sleep, forced into it by his traitorous body.

Time passed again. Far more than he knew. Unaware of the hours trickling by, full of events and murmurings, whispers; he rested. He didn't know that it had been Auru who had found him sometime after he had passed out. Outrage would've tickled Rusl's throat if he knew that Auru took him back to the village first, temporarily leaving Link's cold body. Only later would he find out. By then the old man's haunted expression had sunk in, no outrage was felt against the face of such aged pain, emotional and physical.

Again, the swordsman was unaware of the events unfolding. He did not know that hours earlier, the Queen had been informed by both Auru and Telma of Link's apparent demise. Attempting to preserve the Hero's secret, she had sent the older man out to locate Brockhoff. Finding the Captain drunk, he had returned to Zelda. Her concern and rage had to be the most emotions she had shown in front of any of her subjects. Sending him off again, she lent the older man a horse from the stables, prompting him to search for the wolf, simply telling him that it was not a threat. That it was important for it to live. Link's secret was in jeopardy, but it appeared his life was as well.

Too late. Auru had been too late to find the wolf, but just in time to save Rusl. Not quite in range of death's scythe, but way too close for comfort. It appeared that the suffering man had found his son's body. Fate must've been determined to traumatize the swordsman as much as possible.

Getting Ashei to help retrieve the body was the easy part of all that. There was no hesitancy in her wide, emotional eyes. So many years she had spent training as a warrior, to hone her feelings just as she honed her blade and skills. It's different to experience such things than to use them in your imagination. They are not imaginable. You cannot procure scenes of dyed landscapes, still faced corpses, and pure poignancy with the same lucidity as standing there yourself.

Nightmares would haunt Rusl, Auru, and Ashei on and off for the rest of their lives. Female warrior or not, strength meant nothing when dreams of stiffening flesh, whispers of failure, and the sight of a cold corpse plague your mind.

Hours turned to days as Rusl slumbered. Cloudy images mixed with dreams, hands offering drops of water from rags looked dead, reflected liquid looked so red it could be black. A brief struggle to keep it out of his mouth would always lead back to unconsciousness. A hazy land of black, streaked with the white of the ground, the crimson blossoming into pink petals on snow. Reaching reality felt like clawing back up the sheer hill. Getting to the top of consciousness, only to tumble back down, slicked with blood and dusted by crushed snowflakes. Was that madness? No, barely the beginnings of it.

Beyond his suffering, more things took place. Without him, Link's body was placed in a makeshift tomb with a hero's honour. Without him, the kingdom mourned in blissful ignorance as to what Rusl had done. The Queen knew. Taking the given information from what was reported and of the swordsman's blind rage against wolves as stated by Auru. It was not difficult to piece the events together. Everyone else however, they thought that the surrogate father of the hero had slaughtered a beast, only to find the body of the young man near the Master Sword's pedestal. It stayed as that, through rumours and gossip it always went back to it, even through the filters of so many minds and mouths. Not even the Resistance knew of the full truth.

Link's weapons were sent to Zelda, still remaining mostly untouched. They were sent there to be inspected and fixed, delicate items such as the mask shaped like a hawk had been crushed within the bag. She wanted to preserve them for future generations, one day someone else may need them.

Yet, she found at the bottom of the bag a small item. A suede drawstring pouch, crushed and wrinkled it lay open with parchment sticking out. The bag was black with turquoise string embroidered into square designs near the top. Neat and loopy writing was scrawled across the torn parchment. Midna. It was signed by the Twilight Princess. Zelda read over it, hesitancy and curiosity combating against each other. Realization and sorrow pulled at her countenance. Eyes shaded, she lowered her head and gloved arms as she sat in her study. What irony. Midna had left the stone for Link so that he may be free as his canine self, only for him to end up trapped in it. For it to be his downfall; the irony was bitter and cruel. Promptings by the Princess to be careful and keep the Master Sword nearby only strengthened such thoughts.

No one was aware of Link's secret beyond the 2 royals and the deceased hero himself, yet, perhaps Rusl knew. She would have to speak with him. The stone was unfound, no reports had been filed of a magic rock at least. Besides that, the Sword still remained away from it's pedestal. Resolving to return it herself, Queen Zelda reached for her own quill and parchment, the soft fabric of her gloves creating a gentle whispering sound on the materials. She removed them and set to work. Informing the village Mayor of her future arrival there, seemingly just to pay her respects to the makeshift tomb in which Link's still corpse resided. She had offered to send workers there with actual supplies, but her offer was politely declined. Few days had passed since the demise of the wonderful young man. Spared by the pain of close relations to him, she found the knowledge easier to bear than others. But of course it still stung. Such things always would…

A ceremony had already been held for the Hero. Some would argue that it was grand, even more so than the King's upon his passing. By the time Zelda had placed the Master Sword back in its pedestal, it had been several days since the event ended. Her visit in the village was brief and secretive. Mayor Bo and the Resistance being the only ones knowing the identity of the mysterious hooded passerby. Another unknown mourner to pay respects to the cold stone encasing a man of legend, a body lacking the life and soul of the brave youth. Seeing as how Rusl was still recovering and unconscious, the Queen left a letter for him. Starting off with mercy, granting him amnesty for his actions, whether he knew what had truly happened or not, he needed to know he was not to blame. She explained in it that if the swordsman was aware of Link's "secret", he should keep it quiet. To preserve the image of the Hero, just as she did with his weapons. Little could be said to console a grieving man when he awoke, but she wished him luck, reminding him to keep what's important in mind. Escorted by the new Captain of her guards, she left the village the same day she arrived.

There was nothing else she could do there. Looking upon the suffering of her subjects was painful. Goddesses, everything was painful. What else could there be but pain? She could see it even in the eyes of the children. Especially the boy with blonde hair. Young eyes, they were supposed to be wide with curiosity to indulge in the wonders of the world. Curiosity absent even as he watched her from the window of his home. Such eyes weren't supposed to be surrounded by dark skin, bloodshot and drooping with the weight of lost innocence. It was unnerving to the royal. Disconcerting. Leaving was almost a relief, heaviness in every gaze had weighed her down.

Madness: Often described as "losing your mind" or "a descending spiral". No, your mind is not lost. By all means, it's still there. Present, shifting. Rather, time is lost. Descending spiral? Now, that is more accurate. Not a spiral staircase of course. More of a feeling that you are rolling down a knoll. Are you in control? Can you stop? Sure. Maybe you are in control, maybe you can stop. Whether you have the willpower to, that is a different variable in the jumble of equations there. What would be the point of stopping? All you would return to is the reality that knocked you down there in the first place. There is no point in slowing down, not when you're so far gone.

Waking had never felt so different. A sense of pellucid-like clarity had disappeared. Replaced by a false calm, false images. A feeling of intoxication lay at the back of Rusl's mind and at the front of his eyes, clouding everything. Itchy wool covered him, a bowl of water sat on the table by his bed. He knew where he was, but he couldn't comprehend it. Could barely comprehend the faces across the room, the motherly shushing as Uli rocked her baby. _Their_ baby. Colin sat rigid, watching the fire twirl and send off incandescent sparks as it heated a pot hanging above it. No processing, just silence as Rusl stared on. There was something missing. Deep down, he felt it, but gave it no thought. There was no rage, no happiness. Just a nearly empty expanse. No noise was made by him upon Uli discovering his awareness. He was awake, but he wasn't there. Not really.

Beautiful. A beautiful specter that he didn't deserve, his wife, fussing over him. There was no movement in his eyes, his breaths felt distant, heartbeat too loud. Everything felt drawn apart by the hand of a higher being. Pulled in such a way that Uli looked ghostly, her image unable to hold together. Pulled taut, dragging behind. That time, he stayed awake. At least it felt like he did. Perhaps it was another dream. Once again a dream within a dream. All lost amongst the folds of each other.

Nothing evoked a reaction from Rusl. His eyes, more lifeless than the dead. Days of this passed, Colin had to endure the emotionless gaze of his father. Present in body, but absent in mind. That is why people believe you lose your mind, simply because others cannot find it. It's always there though, chattering, fluttering like the wings of a dying butterfly. Yet not gentle. Tempestuous storms shredded the weaker thoughts, leaving only what had happened.

Bedridden for days still. Throbbing feet and overtaxed lungs only part of the reason. Broken. Almost reflecting his heart. So close. Open for anyone to see his pain, even his remaining son, his fretting wife, and the faded image of Ilia. The blurry figure of the girl was difficult to discern, her speed and constant need to move making her nearly unrecognizable. Rusl didn't care anyway. Whether she was there or not to see his turmoil, it did not matter.

Going from being bedridden to up and about was a transition that took effort. Effort that he had not been willing to give. That is, before his vision finally focused just a tiny bit. Across the room, his son still sat. Never going outside anymore, there was no more curiosity in those eyes, no more light. It was gone, just like Link's. He had caused it. He was unworthy of being that boy's father. Unworthy of looking upon him, dead eyes the only trait they were sharing beyond physical appearance. That gave Rusl enough willpower to prop his elbow up, followed by his torso. He wanted to get slightly better at least. Attention captured, his son looked at him with slightly widened eyes, but never how they had been before. Clouds still drifted across the swordsman's eyes, miniscule flashes of lightning creating black spots in his vision. Strength was given to him by a will to leave. To avoid the eyes of his son, the pain. In order to leave he had to get better, physically that is. Telling his son what he did, that would be a greater challenge than any of it. Feet and limbs protested greatly as he limped to the table, plopping down into a chair and resting there. Colin still stared, a silent spectator.

On the table rested a letter, unopened and bland. Red wax sealed it together, the only colour against the plain parchment. A dying spark of curiosity floated across his mind. His hand acted of its own accord, picking the paper up to flip it over.

"It's for you."

Shattered silence lanced in shards through Rusl's hazy mind, only to reform as quickly as it had been broken. A simple sentence spoken in an unrecognizable voice. The voice of a child who had seen the world for what it was, years before his time was supposed to come. Father looked upon son, their eyes incapable of meeting. Shifting his gaze back to the letter, he noticed the royal seal pressed into the wax.

Unable to stop his hand from trembling, he opened it. It was not ceremonious or special in any way, in fact, the letter ripped near the seal, the sound sharp and sudden. Quietude was once again breached by the noise, reforming slower that time as the rustling of paper rippled through the air.

Signed at the bottom was the loopy signature of Queen Zelda. Simply reading that made everything blurrier. Descending again? Perhaps so. Ink blurred together as he read what the Queen had to say. Symbols folded in on each other, making it difficult to understand. What he did get from it was almost immediately rejected by his thoughts. Granted amnesty? Bah, he could never even forgive himself. He knew Link's secret by then. A secret he wished the younger man had trusted him with. But…he had no one to blame but his self. His cruel, heartless self.

Spiraling once again. Already it was too much. Without Uli or Ilia in the house there was no one mothering him, watching him for any change. The sudden movement caught Colin off guard, he had not expected his father to collapse. The boy called for his mother, hoping she was nearby as he knelt next to his father. Dead eyes stared at him, living dead. After that Rusl was bedridden once again until he was fully recovered. Yet, his eyes lacked the fatherly pride and affection Colin had once arrived so hard to be looked upon with. His father was missing and somehow still there.

One day came by that felt different. There was an uncanny sense of calm. A falsehood in itself, throbbing in rhythm with his heart. Emotionally, nothing had changed. Physically, he was nearly healed. Mentally, he no longer cared about his mind. That day however, he made it up. Made up his mind, that is. He was going to leave. There was little to no reasoning to his thoughts. He needed to leave. To run. Packed and ready within minutes, he wrote a note. Again, no explanation, it simply stated that it was best for his family. Deep within the woods there was a small shack. Aged and untouched for years. He would stay there. Isolation…it felt necessary…

No one saw him leaving. No one noticed. He was gone before anyone could turn their head to the open door of his home, empty of all human life. Rusl did not know why no one was there that morning, he had just taken the opportunity and left. A decision made swiftly, no planning was made. No precautions taken against the chill of winter. Just what he had packed. Only a few weapons, including a set of hunting knives stuffed at the bottom of his bag. Similar to the guilt he held over wanting to use them on the wol-no, _Link's_ fur coat, he kept them stuffed away. An attempt to ease it off his clouded mind.

It made sense to him, in an oddly deranged way. Sense that the wolf was the Hero, the Hero the wolf. Was he mad? He didn't feel insane. Does one actually feel their insanity or is it something others are only capable of diagnosing? Since he didn't feel crazy, did that make him sane? Sure, his head felt off balanced and scrambled, but that wasn't insanity. Was it? Everyone always said that madness was just losing your mind. But his mind felt everything except lost. Quite the opposite. It was there. Taunting him with memories. Emotions were pushed aside, unnoticed in the face of incredible guilt and pain. Such pain that it must've been physical, there was no way that it could be emotional, originating from deep within and spreading like fire through his veins. Veins that did not deserve the blood, his heart beat stubbornly, keeping him alive. It felt unfair that he was the one walking through the woods. Unfair that there was life in his system while the one who truly deserved it lay dead in an unknown location. No one had informed him of where Link was laid to rest. Even his own wife looked upon him as though he were a stranger. He was though. There was love in her touch still, but she was loving someone who had done something terrible. She loved a monster. A beast made only to be struck down by an executioner's ace or his neck broken like his soul by a rigid rope.

The wind in his chest, the blood in his veins, he knew he didn't deserve it. Except, he still went on. Onward along the snow covered trail to the barren shack. He didn't deserve to be in the same house that once kept Link safe. He deserved to be in a rickety structure that threatened to collapse the second he touched the door. Nor did he deserve the comfort of a warm blanket whereas his surrogate son rested with not even the heat of his body to warm him. Rusl deserved nothing except the treatment that came with being a virulent creature.

Isolation can already be a deadly thing. It separates you from what kept you alive. Even if it isn't a person it is still vital. Family was always important for Rusl. Being away from them was difficult in the past, except not that time. It was necessary in his mind. Solitude on a regular man can be terrifying, solitude on a man of sorrow can be indescribable. Somber thoughts overlapping, whispering. They're dangerous. One day a cacophony of them will build, no other voice to drown them out but your own. No one to help you. To stop you. To comfort you. Just you and your mind. Only time is lost. Hours turn to days, says to weeks. Weeks of living while dead. Never truly alive. Food is a resource that is inexhaustible. Appetite very nearly gone, you whither away with only scraps in your stomach. What joy is there to eating? It doesn't fill the void, there is no solace to be found in seared flesh and dry fruit. A once filled-in body, full of life and happiness long ago slowly resembled the corpse that was laid to rest, cheeks gaunt and pulled taut. Withering, dying. Not fast enough. Not dying fast enough.

More thoughts folded in on each, clamouring, screaming. Louder and louder. Each heartbeat echoing the lament of a thousand voices, a thousand thoughts all straining to be heard. Building, _building_. _Screaming. Get OUT. BY THE GODDESSES STOP IT._

Nothing. Suddenly it stopped. All stopped. Hands still gripped in his hair, knees drawn so close to his chest it was hard to breathe. Tear-blurred eyes looked around at the wooden shack, walls moldy and frail. Cold wind blew in through cracks, whistling a tune that only nature understands. No other noise, thoughts silent. Until, one spoke. _The knives_. Such a thought was strong, persuasive without needing to sway him with words. The pack next to him looked bright against the dreary brown wood and dead fungi. Within seconds he had scrambled to unbuckle the strap on the top and dumped everything out. Piles of barely eaten food wrapped in packages were crushed by his sword and shield, then with a clatter his sheathed hunting knives finally hit the top of the pile. A soft thump followed the silence after everything was out of the pack, trembling hands pulled a knife from its sheath. _Coward. You killed an innocent person in your own rage._ Beautiful, a well kept blade is a magnificent sight, glistening metal reflecting silver light as though it captured rays of the moon itself. A well sharpened edge unmarred by abuse, the handle smooth and snug in the user's hand. _Coward._

A hunting knife should never be used on a person. Briefly, a flash of a memory tiptoed across his mind. A memory of days long gone, a lesson given on knife safety to a boy with honey-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. _These are not toys, they can hurt or even kill someone._ That glimpse was of a different voice. A voice full of love and affection, concern and stern instructions. The one that stormed in his mind thundered and crackled. Somehow, that still did not feel like insanity.

Holding the knife in his hand caused his heart to beat more. No, not faster. Just more. It felt as though it was taking in too much blood at once, fueling his body with more pain. Working too hard. Such pain was trapped in his veins, stuck there. He could release it, but to what cost? His life the payment for eternal rest. For freedom away from his suffering. _COWARD! You can take the lives of others but you cannot take your own?_ More trembling overtook his hand. To be free, to be with Link, even if he didn't deserve to stand beside the Hero.

Thinking about being with Link was enough that he knew the knife was welcome to slide across his wrists or to plunge into his chest. He knew that it would very well be worth it just to see his son again, just to end his mortal pain. To leave the realm where his guilt weighed on him as though it was tangible. Louder and louder the voice echoed the beat of his heart. His heart. His poor heart.

Trembling turned to intense shaking, tear-blurred vision acquired a veil of darkness around the edges. All focus on his wrist and on the gleaming, _glowing_ knife. _You bastard! You COWARD! What is so difficult about doing it?! COWARD YOU COWARD! YOU MUST DO IT TO BE FREE! COWARD!_

Over and over again! The blasted impulse to just end it, to end it all and finally be free. Even if he did not deserve such freedom he yearned for it, for the urge to release the pain from his veins, to stop the beating of his accursed heart that had driven him to be a killer! A murderer! A COWARD! A HEARTLESS MONSTER! He had always striven to do what he thought best, to keep his loved ones safe, to be brave and protect everyone while in reality they needed protection from _him._ GODDESSES! Why was it so hard to cut off the beat of his heart, to open his life to the world and pour it on the forsaken ground like he had done to his own son. His own son's blood. Why was he forced to live while Link had died?! Why didn't he get a chance to freeze to death next to the lifeless corpse?! Why was he alive?! He did not deserve the crisp air of winter sporadically flooding his lungs, he did not deserve the crimson that roared through his veins. He did not deserve to see the world, to hear the sounds of winter birds, to taste things such as the sweet water from the stream nearby, to feel the wind washing around him, to smell the soft scents of his home where spice was always floating. Death is what he deserved. The only thing he truly deserved. Yet why was it so difficult? WHY?!

In an ever growing discord the word "Coward" bounced continuously, never fading, always growing. _COWARD! YOU COWARD!_ His own true voice joined the throng, echoing louder and louder. Over and over, again and again the word rang. It rang with the dissonance of a hundred broken bells, thundering and vibrating in all their glory. A stentorian of voices clamouring over each other, stumbling over the sounds. His eyes continuously locked on the knife in his hand. Screaming. He had not realized he was also shouting the word until his voice broke, pain lancing up his throat. Hacking and choking he wheezed until his laborious breaths calmed.

With his breaths even once again, he found the only sound he could focus on was the tattered noise of air going in and out of his system. In and out. Steady and peaceful. With that he dropped his knife, and suddenly, he could think. Open to him was his mind. His memories. In and out. He remembered, so long ago, how he had helped his brave little boy. _Shh, it's alright. Just breathe, it's okay to cry. See? All you have to do is breathe._ Breathe. That's what he had to do. Concentrate. Agonizing sorrow still beat in his veins. Deadly. A poison that cannot be cured by a blade. How is it cured? How? It can be, he remembered a way he could. In and out, deep breath, it's alright.

There was a way. A cure. What was it? So long ago, there was still a hint of pain in that memory. A change. A past pulse that throbbed differently than his current one. When his parents had died. How did he fix it? He didn't. You can't fix grief, only accept it. Steady now, more air, deep breath again. What changed everything so that it was bearable? Concentrate, think, ponder. Uli. Oh Din, she was so beautiful. Married together when the leaves turned red and orange, speckled with yellow, air crisp and wholesome. So long ago. Her beauty did not fade. But he was. He was fading, dying, spiraling, sweet Nayru he was going to drown again there was no air, no love, nothing but suffering. Breathe. Breathe. Uli. He had left her behind! For Farore's sake what had he been thinking?!

Time had been lost to him, uncounted and unnoticed beyond the hours turning from dark to light, light to dark. However, he noticed the time inch by as his heartbeat picked up and his breaths came fast. Items were carelessly thrown back into his pack, his limbs not moving fast enough in his flurry of movement. How could he leave her? How could he leave his children? His precious son who was just learning how to be an amazing person, his daughter that held so much potential. So much could be done for her, leaving her behind would only take away from her life, her experiences. Both of his children needed a father. Memories of his own father flitted across his racing mind. Everyone always says your heart, mind, and body are racing. Against what exactly? Against each other. His feet didn't move fast enough, his mind lagged behind his heart. The heart once so broken and exhausted, now filled with such _excitement_ such _life._ He wasn't moving fast enough, his extremities felt like dead weight lacking energy from his empty stomach. There was no time to eat, time itself was already going too slow. Too slow. He had to see his family again. That's what he had to live for. It was important, so very important and he was somehow blinded from it in his own pain.

Forests of snow turned to a well worn path with slush and mud. Darkness descended upon him, the black of night forcing him to slow. Too slow! Damn it all he was not fast enough! Cold, so cold. Warmth from running fled him, shivering taking over as his feet searched for safe footholds so that he wouldn't slip or trip. Hope was being frozen over as more time dragged on. Perhaps he had gone the wrong way? Had he gotten lost? Spiraling, descending once again. Then light. Fire in the distance. Torches lit for lost travelers such as himself. The distant flames melted the icy covering that threatened to suffocate his hope. Faster, he did not care if his feet became soaked. He was near home and he wanted so desperately to be there. To be with his family. He had gone so far to be with them again.

So much had changed. So much missing. Link dead, Rusl gone. Uli was left at her home to grieve, only her son was there to comfort her. Ilia had returned to her father at last, realizing how much he had meant to her. Colin tried to help, but he was only a boy, her boy. She did not know whether or not Rusl was alive or dead. She did not know if he would ever return to her and her children. He had fled, perhaps just to find space, or perhaps to find death. Still, she did not know. Every waking moment was spent thinking of her sorrow and her children. Deep down she felt betrayed. Betrayed that he had run out and left her to raise _their_ children by herself. As days dragged on, she lost any hope that he would come back. She accepted her duty as both Mother and Father soon after. Before, she had prayed she would never know the word "widow" for herself. By then she had accepted it. Accepted it as the whole truth and would refer to herself as one if anybody were to ask. Yet, her heart was stubborn. She still loved him. How could she not? Do you stop loving someone just because they betray you? The answer is no, you don't.

Child and baby asleep, Uli had been prepared to drift into her own dreams. She had not been prepared for the soft knock on the door, gentle and quiet, filled with hesitancy. Rising from the warmth of her bed, she silently made her way towards it.

Even if you say you've lost all hope, buried below your denial is that small bit still there. That miniscule part of you remaining stubborn in the face of supposed facts. Just a little bit is needed to hold against so much oppression. Hope that says, "Everything will be alright. Things will go back to normal. He'll come back." And if you're lucky, one day your hope will be justified.

"Uli…I-I…I can't say I'm sorry enough…"

Standing there in the doorway with his head bowed was her husband. Her dear, mislead, very much alive husband. What was her first reaction? Goddesses, she wanted to slap him, punch him, scream at him for leaving and for making her think he was dead. Except…she didn't. Framed against the darkness, he was visible in the light of the fire inside the house. Rusl's cheeks were hollow, his skin pale and red from the cold. He was almost unrecognizable, his beard and hair were out of control. A couple long locks shaded his eyes while he ducked his head in shame, his voice was hoarse and scraggly. Everything about him screamed scraggly. His eyes. Eyes that had seen and felt death held a glisten in them, then more light. They were overflowing with the light until drops of it fell from his downcast eyes. He was patient, awaiting her reaction. Slowly, his silent tears turned to small sobs. Full of regret, pain, guilt…he was suffering. Who was Uli to deny him entry to his own house?

Stepping into the threshold, Rusl's legs finally gave out. By then he had wasted so much energy. Body starved of nutrients, he was weak. Thankfully Uli caught him before he hit the ground. He was home…finally home. Mind at peace for the first time in what felt like years. He could rest. Recover. At last, he could be with his family in life, not in death.

Death is not an answer. Death upon more death does not subtract the pain that you or others feel. Any death, big or small, has a ripple effect. People closest to you feel it the most, but it doesn't stop there. Farther and farther it spreads out, touching others along the way. You may free yourself of life, but you bring others into the throng of overlapping pain. Death…well…death is the end. There is not a way you can look at what your final absence caused. The pain. The melancholic thoughts and feelings. You don't get the final laugh at the people who wronged you, you are just dead. Plain and simple. Gone. Death is final. It is an unavoidable truth, yes. One day we will die, but it doesn't just affect you. Yes, it is _your_ life fleeing your body, but it is also leaving everyone else to feel the pain. To ask what they could have done to prevent it. To cry. To weep and wail in sorrow of guilt and suffering. _Could I have done something to stop them? Were we not enough to stick around for? Didn't they know they were loved?_

Death is not a cure. Death is not a solution. It is a finale with the strength to affect so many people.

 _I miss you, won't you please come back?_

 _You were loved, didn't you know that?_

 _And if on occasion you notice me cry,_

 _You'll understand, I didn't want you to die._

 _You saved my life, I could talk to you._

 _I would have saved yours if only I knew._

 _The note on the table, your hand on the ground._

 _They haunt all my nightmares, yet save me somehow._

-(Altered) I Didn't Want You to Die by Bruce Cassidy


	15. Epilogue 2

A/N I've been super out of it as of late, obviously. My motivation is rather low but I still have ideas. Captivity will hopefully be out soon, same with a request by a follower. I've also been dying to start Life on the Run, so many ideas for it ( **NOTICE:** Title will be changed to The Highwayman Code or something along the lines). In All but Blood is another series I'm doing (following Darker Days) as well as a collab with my beta. Basically, I'm doing 4 separate fics all around the same time. Bit chaotic, but I think it may help my motivation. Hopefully. Edit: HOLY CRAP WRITING HAPPY ENDINGS IS HARD

 **CONCERNING THIS CHAPTER:** Yes, this is the last chapter. Yes, this is a "happy" ending, meaning Link isn't dead. There is a problem, however. I spent most of this fic debating whether or not I wanted to kill Link off. My original idea was NOT to, so technically this is the real ending. The problem is some of the events that took place; I'll have to change them so that it will work to how I originally wanted it to go. Edit: However, the reason why I chose the sad ending was because I didn't know where to go with the happy one. That's part of the reason this has taken so long, it's been hard to write.

 **(READ THIS BEFORE THE CHAPTER)** In conclusion: _1\. Link is not dead. 2._ _ **Only**_ _Rusl (and his family), Bo, the Resistance, and Zelda (check last ch.) know about his "death". None of the villagers were told. 3. This chapter is starting from the end of ch. 13, the last scene is being rewritten. 4. Rusl does not know he shot Link, just that he found him bleeding in the woods. 5. Rusl's shot was NOT fatal, that much is obvious. He did go on the hunt after Wolf Link, but he did not choose to explain the situation to the village._

 **READ MESSAGE ABOVE**

So tell me as a hero what's worth saving  
Rebuild our lives together and what's worth breaking  
The pale scars on my body that I present  
But the violence I'm against, that, I resent.

Give me the life that I once had  
Saving broken lives, the hatred now, it makes me sad  
Let me run through our vast lands-freedom my blanket-the world my bed  
My fallen past; I remember with dread.

The battles we fight that show us who we are,  
When we come home all that's left are these painful scars.  
Keep us together now, in our greatest liberty  
Keep in mind that no matter what you do, you're always my family.

-(altered) Reconciliation for a Saviour by Gabby Aquino (Feb 2011)

Epilogue 2

 _Time slowed. Eyes of sapphire, filled with the stars of a clear summer night, looked right at him. More crimson coated the once healthy cheeks and mouth. Then, He smiled. One corner of the lips rose, revealing red stained teeth amongst their white brethren. Grasped in hand was the purple-hilted sword from long ago. Blood dripped from those hands, down the blade and into the hole made by the tip in the snow. That smile, so bright and full of life. Life. But, He was dead. Dead. Not leaning heavily upon the Master Sword. Not staining the white landscape crimson and pink. Not smiling a bloodied smile._

The injured hero trembled, from cold or exertion, Rusl did not know. For all he knew it was both. Blood, so much blood, yet the youth in front of him still stood.

"Hello Father." The smile wavered for only a second as he spoke.

Oh Goddesses, it was him! Bleeding before the swordsman stood his son, his surrogate son. Hardly wasting a breath, he leapt to the wounded man's aid. Disbelief raged in his mind, the giddy sensation of joy combated against it. A thin layer of blood coated Rusl once he strung his arm around the pained hero, leaning the weight of the poor boy on himself. Yes, his feet hurt but he was so damn relieved, he could think only of assisting the son he thought dead. The son he had spent so long trying to avenge.

Link winced under his touch at first. He was close to unconsciousness, pain making him look drowsy and gaunt. Laboured breaths resounded in the older man's ears, the exhausted youth rested almost all his weight on his father figure.

"Don't pass out just yet, my boy. Hold on, I beg of you, hold on."

The hoarseness of his own voice startled Rusl, his exhaustion was showing in many forms. Thankfully, he got a curt response from Link, a short nod and an attempt to stand straighter. He knew that in order to help the young man, he had to get him to the village. Taking care of the wound at the moment would also be beneficial, but if they waited around Rusl knew that both of them probably would not have the energy to get back up if they rested. Even if he could muster some, Link wouldn't be able to. So, they carried on with difficulty. Long and arduous, their trek back up the slope was a nightmare. Barely conscious, the bloody hero was practically dragged up most of the way. Exhaustion meant little to a desperate man-however-Rusl was determined to help his son. He could not save him before, he was going to save him then.

Near the top of the icy, sheer hill, Rusl stumbled and fell with Link. Lungs aching, body far beyond being abused, feet tattered, and limbs numb, he felt he could go no farther. The scent of blood was too strong; sickeningly powerful. With a pained gasp, the young man beside him tried to push himself up, only to lay back down amongst the crystal snowflakes, barely melting them with his fading heat. Snow and ice crunched as the swordsman shifted, attempting to get back up as well. It felt hopeless, right there, the top of the slope just barely above them, his boy was dying once again and his own life force was being snatched away by the frigid cold. Icy winds ruffled blood soaked clothes, chilling the sticky crimson and further numbing both men. Rusl could see Link struggling to even breathe, to simply keep his eyes open. In one last desperate attempt, he stood shakily, and with the power of a truly desperate parent he pulled his boy up. At the top of the slope where the blood of the wolf still lay, he fell once again. Crunching snow blocked out all other noise in his ears, body stiff and numb from the cold. Link lay where he fell -fading from consciousness- Rusl's own hold on reality was slipping. They were both unconscious within seconds.

When Rusl awoke it was amongst warmth and a sea of fabric weighing him down. With warmth came the pain, the cold no longer numbing his wounds and exhausted body. His mind was laggard upon his awakening. All he had done was return to the life without his son…except…he hadn't. Goddesses! Link was alive! He could barely believe his memories. Sitting up frantically, he looked around, hoping beyond hope that he was there. But…he was not. As if out of nowhere, Uli was by his side, talking to him. Saying words he could not seem to comprehend. Had it all just been a dream...?

"Rusl! Darling, look at me! You've been through a lot, but don't worry. He's safe. Bo figured there wasn't enough room here for all of us."

At the sharp tone in his wife's voice his attention was caught, he obeyed and looked at her. Who was safe? What happened? He felt dizzy, his throat tight and cracked; no noise was made when he tried to speak. Colours, smells, and noise rolled and blurred together. In an attempt to block everything out he closed his eyes, only to open them days later. Days spent recovering.

Waking up was an unwelcome event. There was hope in his heart for a reason he could not recall, but it felt good. He hadn't felt such hope in what seemed like years. It was wonderful, his dreams embraced it. Dreams filled with the past. Memories of what was; the happy days. Then, he was awake. Auru sat on a chair near Rusl's bedside, a worn book in hand. Old joints creaked and groaned as the man shifted, looking upon his younger ally. Tired muscles pulled themselves taught, revealing aged rows of teeth, a smile that was both happy and worn.

"You pulled through." Auru observed, "I'm glad you made it back to us, you had everyone worried."

Rusl's own tired bones and muscles groaned and creaked as he propped himself up. Questions flitted around his tongue, but he kept them at bay. His mouth felt cramped-his tongue too big for the tiny space. It was all dry. Even though his questions remained silent, Auru answered them.

"Link is safe. He's still recovering, the Doctor said he would be alright." He explained, "Queen Zelda sent me after you. Telma and I told her of his apparent death and next thing I knew I was being whisked away by the stable boy with instructions to find that wolf you were hunting."

He chuckled slightly, almost a dry laugh, cold even.

"You're both lucky I found you when I did." With that he looked at his hands, the book grasped tightly in one and the other resting on his knobby knee.

"Real lucky…"

Rusl looked at him, long and hard. That man had suffered through the delusions of his teammate, a grief-stricken father. That man had seen death and known fear. There was a trace of fear when he had been speaking. The swordsman could see that.

"I assumed the worse, neither of you looked the least bit alive." Auru sighed, "We already thought Link was dead..."

He trailed off briefly, mumbling to himself.

"Where was I going with this? Oh, right. Link will be fine, it definitely seems like he's been through a pack of wolves and Mother Nature, that's for sure." He smiled, "You raised a tough kid, Rusl. He is one strong young man."

A small span of silence followed, Auru still did not look at him. His eyes were focused on everything but the wounded man in front of him. Then he just got up and walked away. For once the old man seemed to be cold towards Rusl. Every part of him wanted to apologize to his elder. To say sorry for all of the chaos his grief and fear had caused, but his body wasn't cooperating.

"You should not have attempted to kill that wolf, Rusl."

Confusion drifted across the swordsman's mind, his unasked questions already being answered in a hushed tone.

"Didn't it seem...off, to you? Blue eyes, strange markings, a chain around its leg, and, I could be wrong, but for a moment I thought I saw earrings."

What was he getting at?

"That wolf led you straight to Link. It took both of us where _I_ needed to be, and then it took you where _you_ needed to be.

That was not an ordinary wolf, my friend. If it weren't for it's help you would not have found Link and I would not have brought that horse after you. The Goddesses guide us in many ways, your own thoughtless rage against an animal saved you and Link. It was a gift, not a curse. However, I would never advise you to relinquish yourself to such hatred ever again."

Quietude reigned briefly, leaving the wounded and over-exerted father to his thoughts. Groaning wood was the only change as that aged man left his friend to solitude.

Silence really is the loudest sound.

Being the Hero always meant publicity. Even when he spent days and days unconscious and recovering, his bedside was often flocked by his townspeople. He was lucky to wake up for the first time at night, no one was around in the Mayor's home. Everyone was asleep. It was rather crowded, seeing as how most of the Resistance lay asleep on either some furniture or the ground nearby. Tight bandages covered most of his exposed skin, the bedsheets were heavy and hot, scratchy material contrasting against softer blankets. He struggled to orient himself for just a second, quickly recognizing the building.

Thoughts and memories ran amok in Link's head. In frustration he kicked the blankets off of his feet, the cool air both soothing and aggravating the bandaged sores. It was then that he began evaluating himself some more. Bandages and healing wounds pulled at his skin, muscles protesting just as much. Observation Number 1: He hurt. Everywhere. And he was tired. Very, very tired. Bone-weary, muscle-sore, body-worn, tired. Shifting a bit, his arm throbbed painfully. Putting a hand to the pained appendage, he felt bandage brush against bandage.

Feeling the bandage on his hand brought Link's attention to it. His heart dropped. Fear started to sink in, dread the deadweight on it all. Prayers to the Goddesses were immediately said, if his hands were too badly ruined he would never be able to hold a bow, maybe even a sword, again.

Focus. Focus. That was not important at the moment. What _was_ important was Rusl. _Goddesses, Rusl._ What had gotten into him? Just thinking about the swordsman brought an involuntary twinge of fear into his heart. His own father had hunted him down, even put an arrow in him. Yes, he was a wolf at the time, but it still left a mark as plain as the scars Link would get from his wounds. Yet he still cared about his surrogate father. Of course he did. How could he not? He feared for him. Where was he? Was he alright? What had happened, exactly?

So many questions swirling around an over-taxed mind. Everything could be answered come morning. It was a long night for the Hero. Try as he might, his mind would not return to sleep. By dawn he was found asleep again with an arm draped over his eyes. Some things were answered as his memories came back to him that night. Others were answered when asked, days later.

Both Link and Rusl asked questions whenever they were awake, yet they could not ask each other any. It takes a long time to recover from such ordeals, even when being tended to by the royal physician (courtesy of Queen Zelda). They remained separate.

Again, you are being asked to imagine something. Fixate yourself upon feelings of remorse and guilt. A young man, thought dead, was alive the entire time. He could have been retrieved.

Internally the Resistance suffered from turbulent guilt. Perhaps if they had looked harder they could have found their wounded member in the woods. To them he had been there the entire time, wounded, facing the elements. Sitting idly would only strengthen the guilt. _I didn't look hard enough._ Shame remained untouched in the face of optimism. _He's safe now, you did your best._ That didn't stop them from feeling guilty, but they were more than glad to see Link and Rusl recovering in the safety of Ordon. More than happy. They didn't know each other nearly as much as they would like, but they were still friends. Friends who held more trust in each other than a common family. Trust they felt less deserving of.

At one point the Queen herself arrived to talk to the Hero of Twilight. They conversed quietly. She did not stay long, partially due to Link's stubborn insistence on standing in her presence. An injured man can only do such a thing for so long. When Zelda did leave she looked lighter, whatever they had spoken about removed some kind of burden off her mind. No one did ever find out what they spoke of. Another mystery.

Potions and remedies can only go so far. Despite the abundant amount of potions consumed, it took awhile for Father and Son to see each other again. When they did silence was the only sound. A once truly desperate man clung onto the anchor that was the hero. The hero who was once a small boy; a lone child under the care of a swordsman and his wife. Joy was found in the relief of a worn father.

Link couldn't help but feel tense. He knew what had happened by then. He knew why Rusl had hunted him. Those were tales of a malicious man, hunting animals who knew no better in cold blood for the sake of revenge, that was not the man he knew. The man that stood in front of him looked like the one who raised him. Yet, Link could still see some of the glint in the other's eye, that glint of satisfied blood thirst. Link's own tales of what happened still involved the wolves. The hero could see that his surrogate father was satisfied with himself for killing off the pack, for killing the beasts that hurt his son. That was not the man the youth recognized, it was the man he feared when running for his life.

It's hard to forget fear. We are built to remember fear, to remember what caused it. The image of your own family can be tainted forever by one frightening experience; be it your children, your siblings, your parents, anyone who caused. It doesn't matter what you think of them, nor how well you know them. Fear is fear. Somebody you've known your entire life could become the cause of your anxiety, the reason why your heart picks up speed, making you jittery and incapable of being near them for long.

Link was never known for cowardice. How could he? Courage was a part of him. It had always been a part of him. But, even the bravest man knows fear, and deep down Link felt it. That instinctual fear that said the gleam in his Father's eye meant death. Involuntary of course, something that he didn't understand. Something that made him uneasy. Often it is easier to forgive than forget, that was no exception there.

Talking to each other was difficult. Rusl listened to Link's tale, short and to the point. He had been wounded and gotten separated from his weapons. Getting lost in the darkness was easy, the hero spent the days leading up to his rescue struggling to survive. One of his wounds reopened after falling close to the Master Sword's location. Then Rusl found him. Simple and curt. So much pain and sorrow originating from assumptions and lost family. Truly, it was a miracle he had lived. Any normal man would have frozen to death or been killed and eaten by the wolves, his body left to crumble in the den of the beasts. It had been easy for them to assume as much. Except, Link was never really an ordinary man.

Rusl felt foolish and guilty. He had spent time chasing after a blue-eyed wolf when he could have helped the widely-adored hero. His words stumbled from his mouth, only managing to voice his relief that Link was not dead. He left soon, his guilt suffocating a lot of his relief and joy. What had he done to help his boy? What did he do when Link was stuck deep in the woods? He left him to die; he hunted an animal he never even recovered the carcass of. What kind of father was he?

More days passed. It took Link time to recover, much more than he was used to. Colin often sat in a chair near his big brother's bed, whittling or reading; he alternated between Link and Rusl. The boy looked like he had aged years in just a day and continued to do so. He would often look up from the worn book in his hands to watch Link lay quietly. The concern on his face would switch from the boy by his bed to stare at the shuttered window. He longed to leave the house where he wouldn't feel crowded by well-wishers and people asking questions that he would answer falsely. Almost everything he told them was a lie, made up by both himself and Queen Zelda. It made the hero feel sick, but he had no choice. It was, honestly, either lie or possibly die. The villagers wouldn't kill him, but chances are the rest of the kingdom wouldn't welcome him as a beast. It was better to hide it all.

It's hard to keep an adventurous heart pinned down. Before long Link had squirmed and persuaded his way out of Bo's warm home. With the Resistance long gone by then it was quieter. Visitors around the village had trickled off until his make-shift family remained. Ilia had visited several times, but she couldn't stand seeing him hurt without being able to do something. She was an anxious soul; constantly flitting around her home. At that time she preferred being away from her abode. It didn't suit her and it especially didn't suit the hero. Just watching her constant flitting made him a bit more eager to leave. Living alone had always been more appealing after all.

Despite his half-promise to the Mayor's daughter, he did not go back to Rusl's home. Bo and Ilia were quite adamant about not wanting him to climb into his treehouse everyday, but that was where he wanted to be. He needed the time to digest what had happened without the incessant buzz of a busy household. Besides, he was more than willing to check up on Epona. It had been a long time since he had seen her.

It almost seemed silly, looking back. Soft powder had once appeared to him as a nigh immovable substance. Walking back to his small, pleasant home after spending so much time healing; it seemed surreal. The crunch of snow beneath his feet was a sound that had plagued his sensitive ears in his pain, it felt normal then. Pain still trembled through his body, but not as severely. He was free from a life he had once longed for, except in different circumstances, he knew he would have gone back to it. Being home and welcomed was a blessing, one he had longed for when wounded and alone. Yet, the allure still remained, if barely. As previously mentioned, perhaps under different circumstances. Right then he just wanted to be home. Home was where he really wanted to be.

A friendly snort was the only greeting the worn hero received upon reaching his home. Epona remained underneath her shelter, several blankets draped over her.

"Looks like Ilia took good care of you, eh girl?" he patted her neck briefly, glad to see her safe and happy.

Link stepped towards the tree that he called home. It looked unkempt from the outside. Twigs and dead leaves lay scatted on and around his ladder, snow dusted the rungs and lay in mounds on his porch. Each step upward he would swipe the natural debris from the rungs and proceeded to push the snow away from his door. Din forbid he let any of it melt. Slipping off the entryway would not be pleasant.

Inside was not much different than outside, temperature wise of course. It was dark and dreary, the air was stuffy from lack of ventilation. A memory slipped across Link's mind, the time he returned after his questing. It was similar in the regard of the lifeless shroud. The warmth of returning home was undeterred by the frost collected on the windowsill. He stamped his feet to rid his boots of snow, allowing the door to be open for the time being. Stuffy air was suffocating to him, having spent so much time outside.

It felt odd to step back into his home again. It hadn't been touched beyond his potions, he recalled that Ilia and Fado used one to help him. The memory seemed distant. With a sigh he climbed to his loft. Link could feel his body protest against the movement, bringing his attention back to his healing wounds. He laid amongst the cooled blankets and watched the wind blow flakes into the entryway; his mind drifting with them. Goddesses, he was happy to be back. Happy to feel two feet on the ground. But he knew he would do it again. He would choose to be a wolf regardless of what had happened. It was glorious to see his friends and family again, but there was always that thrum of freedom. It was insatiable, he found. He had given the stone to Queen Zelda when she had visited. It was a struggle to keep it hidden. It was safe with her, but one day he would return to her for it. The Master Sword was also in her possession. Both items were safe and ready for him whenever he decided to return.

Without his thick fur coat, the cold bit to his bone. Link made a move to climb down from the loft to shut his door, having had enough of the harsh fresh air. The crunch of boots outside made him pause halfway down the ladder. He listened as the sound made its way up his ladder and onto his porch.

Link knew he was guilty of stalling. The hero had taken his time in his home, in Bo's abode too. He was trying to prolong the time before he saw Rusl again. Nothing could change the fact that he loved him as a father, but it was difficult in the face of hesitancy and fear. He was courageous, yes, but that didn't change his instincts. Instincts that made it hard to look at the familiar features without glimpsing the unfamiliar beast beneath. With all the time he spent stalling, he knew that eventually Rusl would come to him.

Rusl's faint voice echoed through the nigh empty house as he stepped on the porch, his elder son's name reverberating off the walls. His response was Link's boots scuffing the ground as the young man approached. A fatherly reprimand died on his lips. He had been prepared to relay Uli's message against Link being here. It was difficult to climb the ladder and she would prefer him to rest with them. Rusl had to admit he would prefer it too. Not only to keep him comfortable, but to keep an eye on him. The amount of relief to see a loved one alive and recovering was amazing. Of course he never wanted to experience the pain of losing the same loved one again.

Once again, Link took his time to approach the swordsman, stalling for any extra time. He saw him pause and cut off what he was going to say. Standing there made him realize how uncomfortable he felt. He noticed that the bandages itched, especially around his hand. He noticed that it was almost difficult to breath with the one wrapped around his chest and side. He noticed a lot of things, but he failed to notice the softening of the man in front of him. The youth was trying to avoid looking at him. The rough wood and ice patches near his feet or the splintering doorway seemed thousands of times more interesting than staring at his hunter.

A span of silence passed, it was short to the swordsman, long to the hero. The turmoil Rusl had seen in his son had taken deeper root. He could see it in those dark eyes; eyes that reminded him of the scared and lost child from years ago. He took a breath, and spoke.

"Walk with me."

It wasn't a request, it was a command. There was no stalling then. The click of the door echoed after the sound of Rusl descending the ladder, Link followed. His heart was brewing emotion after emotion; he was hesitant. He no longer felt that he knew the man near him. That man seemed to no longer hold the kind soul that taught him so much. A man who taught empathy towards animals and people. That man was absent in Link's eyes. And Link looked absent in Rusl's.

Fear, no matter how large or small, is only overcome by facing it. That lessons has been taught over many generations but it is always a struggle to follow it. Link was no coward. Even with the help of the Triforce, courage was something he had to learn throughout the years. It doesn't make it much easier. Involuntary fear especially.

The walk to Ordon's Spring was an anxious one for poor Link. The distance was short and simple, cold too. The young man was not sure of what the swordsman wanted to talk to him about. Uncertain and downcast, he looked to the ground, old tracks covered once again by a light dusting of snow from the night before. It was soft beneath his boots, a gentle blanket against the hard ground. Briefly, his feet twinged in the remembrance of their suffering. The spring lay frozen and glistening in the sun, the waterfall in the back flowed underneath the ice, some of it splashing through gaps, building up a frozen mound around the base.

Rusl breathed in the still, frigid air when they arrived. It was fresh and sharp. Dark clouds drifted apart above them, slow and laborious. As the sun peeked through the ominous covers above them, the older man looked upon Link. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face him with a sigh. He wanted to apologize again for not looking hard enough. For giving up on him. He wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and call him son and be called father back. That's what he wanted, but instead he paused. In his mind's eye he saw tired bones and a worn smile, all weighed down by the world; Auru had come to mind. What he said about the wolf resurfaced, about the swordsman's own malice and anger. So he stopped, and instead of apologizing for what could have been done, he apologized for what he had done.

Rusl apologized hesitantly. Link had already heard of what had driven the man to be ferocious, he was aware of why he had seen such volatile emotions in his demeanor. He had not expected to hear the man apologize for his misdeeds. Confusion was prominent.

"What? Why are you apologizing for that?"

Again, Rusl took another deep breath, letting it out in aa soft sigh.

"Many years ago, when you lived with us, I promised to raise you and Colin with compassion." His eyes wandered, "I swore I wouldn't be an example of the anger and terrible aspects this world has to offer.

"I'm apologizing for my actions because I was not 'practicing what I preach', as they say. I'm sorry for that. I taught you to care about every animal, and I killed them in cold blood. I didn't even keep their pelts, I left them to rot. That makes me feel less human.

"You, my boy, are more human than I. I'm glad you are back, I am truly ecstatic you are alive. However, you are alive, but you are not well."

Rusl looked into Link's downcast eyes, catching his attention.

"You've been part of my family for years, I can tell when something isn't right with you."

Link tensed slightly. Did he know his secret? What was he going at?

"Ever since you returned home, you've been distant. You don't talk much about what happened. Tell me, what did you go through, then? What made you change so much."

Not having to talk about the recent events seemed like a blessing at first. It seemed Link had a choice. If he didn't talk about his adventure, chances are he would have to relay his cover story (concerning his recent disappearance) again. He was skeptical, of course. While he shared snippets of his adventure in the past, he had never told the full story, especially the parts concerning him and Midna. Goddesses, he missed her company, but he could live without her.

Eventually he would have to tell Rusl anyway. So, he sighed dejectedly, and began the long tale of his journey to save Hyrule.

At first, Link felt that telling his story was useless. What did Rusl expect from him? He kept out his transformations, he tried to keep out Midna. Telling his whole story felt wrong, telling it without her in it felt worse. He barely glanced over her, tried to seem emotionless. It just couldn't be done. There was weight being lifted off his heart, he felt it too. He couldn't avoid telling Rusl what had happened with her, not fully, but enough to say that she left. He used to tell Rusl anything, what had happened to those times? What had happened to hours exploring together in silence? What had happened to his relationship with his family?

Link had not seen the distance placed between them. For once he did. He had created that distance after Hyrule was restored. He had done it. He saw it. Goddesses, he knew he wanted desperately to fix it then. How could he be blind? How could he not see the malice disappear? What he saw in his friend, his mentor, his surrogate Father, was not anger or distant sympathy. He saw the empathy of a past soldier, one who had seen and caused bloodshed many times over. That was who he knew. There was weight off of Link's shoulders.

Rusl knew the power of sharing pains, he was wise in that manner. Wise in empathy. He knew how to help Link in that time, he had meant to take such burdens from his son long before that. The pain of losing him only strengthened his regret that he had not taken care of it beforehand. It was the regret of not being able to help him while his boy was alive. Link being amongst the living meant little if he could not keep him that way, physically and emotionally. Burdens were lifted off of both of them, the air fogged with the breath of their shared pains.

With a smile, Rusl placed his hand on Link's shoulder. He called him son, in turn he was called Father by the grinning young man. The air was bright and sharp, a new memory engraved by the frozen spring.

"I forgive you, Father."

It was a happy memory.


End file.
